Spore Ensemble

Descending through cavernous, black fungal chasms
 in search of a forsaken Kingdom once lost
 furtive foulness, that lurk in the shadows
 bioluminosity outlining their hulking forms
 Rearing up from the gulch now before him; the roots of Ankath-Shol
 the bastion of Yeth-Shuul; hunter of mortal souls
 Life is fleeting, death is vital, and essential to his cycle
 All is finite, yet not final, pain is pleasure, fear is primal
 Love and hatred; paralysing, conflict driving and dividing
 in the rapture of his spiral, constant fight for survival
 Lost in the maze of his playground of bloodlust
 hounded by the hunters just outside of sight
 Adrenaline coarsing, pushing him harder
 consumed by paranoia, in a bid to escape the night
 From a swallow hole black as the void
 gore drenched tendrils reach
 revealing a gaping maw filled with innumerable iron teeth
 Endless mass of writhing horror, oozing and putrid
 filling the air, dense and oppressive
 drained of vitality he falls to his knees
 Now at the mercy of the beast
 There are no questions, no mysteries left
 he feels most alive when faced with death
 Terror manifest permeating his flesh
 Never to feel the same again
 From this nightmare he turns and runs
 faster than he has ever done
 Leaping farther, striding harder
 What does not kill him makes him strong.