Strange Liberty

The moonlight streams
through crooked trees
emtombing the vast and distant shore.
A place of beauty, and expanse of cruelty,
A land of ancient lore.

Creatures ravage,
wild and savage,
through the infinite and formidable terrain.
And haunting cries, pierce the sky,
From the souls whom this land claims.

And no human will see
until eternity
the place where no being dares to tread.
The land is rife, with fury and strife,
Overshadowed by the spirits of the dead.

When dusk is spawning
and darkness is dawning,
the land is enraptured with movement and glee.
Shadows emerge, and voices surge
In a hellish cacaphony of ecstasy.

The silhouettes are roaring
and spectres are soaring
above the lakes, and rivers, and trees,
The land of the dead, it has been said,
Is predominantly and ultimately free.

For no earthly restraints
could ever taint
the land where evil pervades and dwells;
And no soul will ever, no matter how cunning or clever,
Escape the boundless confinements of hell.