Dreaming Above The Sepulcher by Nightbringer
All hymns are hollow, unheard outside the gate of in-
between and unbeknown fall like wounded birds from the
heavens back unto the supplicant. Thus I slumber upon the
threshold of death and dream the dreams of gods. It is
here that I have sung my hymns into the mouths of the
dead, that they may not rise but fall down and down
through the chambers of slumber and unto the darkness of
death‟s ingress. Lamentation and evocations in the same
cadence, resounding like the songs of Thessalian witches.
And with bones snatched from the maws of ravening dogs I
have mocked the cathedral‟s mason, constructing an ill
house of darkness mirrored within the birdless lake, a
black mansion of dreaming Night. Within these dolente
lands where the Incubi abound, I have chased the children
of the psalm-singers from cyprus to tomb and jugulated
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