The assembler of souls absorbs all within his reach   His seemingly perpetual glance of doom   Would even make the smallest of serenities breach   As he rides he wind being the ghost of gloom      Running darkness all around   A knife in her hand      Fall, rising, screaming the name of her beloved      So weak, and so weary   Something blackening her thoughts   A cloud, a force, a weight      Finding her true love lying in red   Is this reality or just a vision in her head      To be the knife as well as the wound   Is all that concerns her      Overwhelmed by a burden, like hordes of fear   The obscurity of the vale of tears   Grasping for safety, which lies all so near   Incresent malice of the vale of tears      Wandering oblivious in the foggy twilight   Shades of an obelisk shines so bright   Incredulous thoughts, bewildering her mind   Is there really a god to find      Halting through the darkest of forests   The obese and extraneous at her tail   This haunting, lingering to the extreme   She is about to quail      Then a formless mass of black, went skyward   Stars began to fade behind a veil of dark blue velvet   She stopped, she listened, nothing   Silence, an eternity passed      The silhouettes of something unseen, a presence