The Ethereal Plane

Dim is the light upon the ethereal plane
No heralds call
No yearning remains
Souls move like wind across a tattered field,
their faces obscured, names disavowed
By Orpheus the Lost
As Maenads anoint their cheeks with his blood

Brittle spines of stone rise
Spires veiled in Poseidon’s salt-born dew
A path grown narrow, worn and frail
Bones crack underfoot like old oaths broken
Above, dragons stir in their embered sleep
Beneath, the ghosts remember

Each soul in the gloaming must choose
Peace everlasting, or unending turns
The Wheel and Fate
A duvet stitched from Sophie’s tears,
folded against the cold of eternity
Lamenting the choices that led us here

Still bound by flesh,
I thread the maze of the forgotten
a necropolis built from the gods regret
where sorrow carves runes into every wall
The journey drains my spirit,
each step a weight drawn from the depths
And yet—
‘Keep going, keep pushing’ I sing in refrain

I see the great Scale in the distance
Judging the doom of man
Not much farther to go, through swerve and stream
I push the boulder of Sisyphus
To bring an end to this abyssal dream

All I must do is whirl reality’s centrifuge
Soil what is sacrosanct
Crest through profane waves
Wade in the infinite pool of time
So I may ransom your soul
For the value of mine