The Waters of the Crypt
The moisture drops from all the walls,
And seems to close around
The grim, and dank, and musty walls
That echo every sound.
The water drops in darkened streams
And flows into the cracks
In walls and floor, and almost seems
To bring the light its lack.
The water, dark, does seem to take
The light here fast away,
The water, black, does seem to make
A labyrinth dark this day.
The water flows o'er bones and brick
That jut from out the walls;
The water flows, so ever thick
As though it's blood that falls.
The blood of life, so ever sweet
Does seem to fall around--
The blood that gives the heart its beat
And falls without a sound.
A thousand years of bone and sand
Are slowly washed away
By hundred's year's of water's hand
As it pulls brick and clay.
But as it runs through all its ways
The water seems to know
That it does make the darkness stay
Within its somber flow.
What secrets lie within this place
That seems to hide its life;
What secrets lie without their grace,
Now buried with their strife.
A light, so strange, does seem to come
Towards me where I rest,
What is this light, this light, wherefrom?
This light that lets no rest.
A figure strange now walks around
Within the musty crypt;
The sounds of footsteps do abound
This long-forgotten crypt.
What purpose, this, that wonders on
Could bring to this dark place?
What goal has it, with its false dawn
That crests the wall's grim face?
A drop, a drop, another drop,
And fast the figure slows,
A drop, a drop, and fast it stops,
As if the water knows.
Fast and loud, and suddenly
The wall does crack and fall
As water pours through quick and free--
The maze here changes all.
The figure, buried, surely dead,
I see from my grim spot,
An arm, a leg, and there a head,
I see now from my plot.
No movement there, nothing I see,
As light and water falls,
This place, this tomb, now his to be,
As water rises tall.
The water falls, and light with haste
Does drip from off the walls
As though a thick and viscous paste;
Then silence covers all.
And dark, again, a grim reprieve,
Does cover corpse and stone;
So dark, so mute, yet I believe
This form speaks soft from bone.
The tale is told, by his pale hide
Beneath the rock and bone,
His tale now adds a grim aside
For others ne'er to know.
Now time, such time, does eat away
At this once lit up hall,
The stone, and dirt, and brick and clay
Creates it's fune'ral pall.
The scene, returned, as it once was,
To silent, muted ground;
As water flows, and surely does
Erase all light and sound.
And still the water, flows and flows
And takes away all light,
The water flows, and surely knows
Its strong, and wrathful might.
The blood of crypt that flows around,
And kills the slightest sound.
And seems to close around
The grim, and dank, and musty walls
That echo every sound.
The water drops in darkened streams
And flows into the cracks
In walls and floor, and almost seems
To bring the light its lack.
The water, dark, does seem to take
The light here fast away,
The water, black, does seem to make
A labyrinth dark this day.
The water flows o'er bones and brick
That jut from out the walls;
The water flows, so ever thick
As though it's blood that falls.
The blood of life, so ever sweet
Does seem to fall around--
The blood that gives the heart its beat
And falls without a sound.
A thousand years of bone and sand
Are slowly washed away
By hundred's year's of water's hand
As it pulls brick and clay.
But as it runs through all its ways
The water seems to know
That it does make the darkness stay
Within its somber flow.
What secrets lie within this place
That seems to hide its life;
What secrets lie without their grace,
Now buried with their strife.
A light, so strange, does seem to come
Towards me where I rest,
What is this light, this light, wherefrom?
This light that lets no rest.
A figure strange now walks around
Within the musty crypt;
The sounds of footsteps do abound
This long-forgotten crypt.
What purpose, this, that wonders on
Could bring to this dark place?
What goal has it, with its false dawn
That crests the wall's grim face?
A drop, a drop, another drop,
And fast the figure slows,
A drop, a drop, and fast it stops,
As if the water knows.
Fast and loud, and suddenly
The wall does crack and fall
As water pours through quick and free--
The maze here changes all.
The figure, buried, surely dead,
I see from my grim spot,
An arm, a leg, and there a head,
I see now from my plot.
No movement there, nothing I see,
As light and water falls,
This place, this tomb, now his to be,
As water rises tall.
The water falls, and light with haste
Does drip from off the walls
As though a thick and viscous paste;
Then silence covers all.
And dark, again, a grim reprieve,
Does cover corpse and stone;
So dark, so mute, yet I believe
This form speaks soft from bone.
The tale is told, by his pale hide
Beneath the rock and bone,
His tale now adds a grim aside
For others ne'er to know.
Now time, such time, does eat away
At this once lit up hall,
The stone, and dirt, and brick and clay
Creates it's fune'ral pall.
The scene, returned, as it once was,
To silent, muted ground;
As water flows, and surely does
Erase all light and sound.
And still the water, flows and flows
And takes away all light,
The water flows, and surely knows
Its strong, and wrathful might.
The blood of crypt that flows around,
And kills the slightest sound.