Cadaveria

I was walking in the dust
Through the half-closed spaces
Incrustations of mud and dew
Resins dripped in the stone.
I discerned a man, alone,
Frightened eyes, red of pain.
I was walking in the pale wintry sun
Through the substrates of the wind
Mosaics of clouds like raging herds.
I discerned a crow, fierce, scanning the horizon…
… Vitreous eyes… and silver tears…
Notes of a new pentagram,
White pages ready to shelter obscure mysteries.
I was walking in the dust