V (Death)

And thus
 No headstone will mark our passing
 No mourners shall pay tribute
 No tithes to those who surrender to blackness
 No offerings for those entombed in this barren land
 The bells toll only within the strata of lost ages
 Earth, death, time and sorrow our parting hymn
 The circle has no end, our solace, no beginning
 Peace is only found in these unheralded, desolate kingdoms
 Withing the silence of the soils
 Amongst the mass grave of the forgotten
 Cemeteries forged in peat
 A cenotaph of bog oak
 Shivering flesh cupped in the shriveled claws of the fenland mausoleum
 Welcomed by a womb of cold earth
 Coiling like a foetus, I succumb to the silence
 Amputating the senses
 Embracing a well of oblivion
 I yearn to dissolve into the infinite
 Where past, present and future are bereft of meaning
 Where each echo of my torrid material self
 Drips slowly into a sink hole of desolation
 Where each reflection of the flesh
 Causes a tidal surge of misery
 A patchwork of memories floats before my mind's eye
 And it is with the gratitude of a lifetime I witness them fade
 Dissipating and drifting as morning mists
 Eradicated for all time
 I pray for nothingness
 My starved will craves void
 And in this stark cradle of dead fen-flesh
 I have found my solace
 I have found my reward
 I have found release
 I have found my blessed death