The Shriek of Death

Flowing rivers,
Of stenching blood.
Blackened red blood.
The air thick,
With dark mist,
Flickering lights of hope,
Only distant fire.
Tortured screams emanating,
From everywhere.

The figure in black stands tall,
He beckons me further in,
'Closer, closer'.

The shriek of death,
Summons me,
The shriek of death,
Is all that awaits me.

Crossing the blood red river,
Over a stone cold bridge,
Looking down at the red,
Unimaginable terrors,
Staring right back,
Some vacant and lifeless,
Some full of hatred and rage.
The figure leads me on.

But as we die in this life,
So shall we rise in the next,
So shall we rule again,
So shall we traverse the awesome night,
Again.
We rise.