The Barrow Downs

I am the darkness I curse the light For depriving me of its radiance I am the cold Damned be the warmth I will never feel again Gone is the light, and dead the sound Foul is the air beneath the ground Cold is the sleep that never will restore Till the sun is dark and warms the Earth no more The black wind shall blow out the sky While for the lost light gold shall mourn Till the Dark Lord claims his bride The withered land, in death adorned A sickly light glows in this fell cave This stupor I feel beckons me towards the grave My friends lie beside me, embalmed and in state And I hear bitter shades damning us to their fate A crawling hand, bereft of its body Belonging to a king erased from time's memory I smite as it draws near, summoning my courage Remembering my voice, I cry for the Eldest