Toll the Hounds

Push it on to the next moment

Don’t think now, save it

For later when thinking will show

Its useless face

When it’s too late and worry is wasted

In the rush for cover

Push it past into that pocket

So that it relents its gnawing presence

And nothing is worth doing

In pointless grace

When all the valid suppositions

Smother your cries

Push it over into the deep hole

You don’t want to know

In case it breaks and makes you feel

Cruel reminders

When all you could have done is now past

No don’t bother

Push it well into the corner

It’s no use, so spare me the grief.

You didn’t like the cost so bright, so high

The bloodiest cut

When all you sought was sweet pleasure

To the end of your days

Push it on until it pushes back

Shout your shock, shout it

You never imagined you never knew what

Turning away would do

Now wail out your dread in waves of disbelief

It’s done it’s dead

Push your way to the front

Clawing the eyes of screaming kin

No legacy awaits your shining children

It’s killed, killed

Gone the future all to feed some holy glory

The world is over. Over.

Siban’s Dying Confession, Siban Of Aren