Wounded By Spirits

As the crows sing thick waiting for feast,

Flesh and bone is the dessert for beasts,

Black death as they peck at visionless pits,

The stench of iron flows in this crimson quill.

Spines of the land reach and tickle clouds,

Voices of the gods let out but holy sounds,

Shattered hearts of warriors with burning love,

Sea of green swept with riches that wasn't enough.

Wounded by spirits with cackles of laughter, 

Sacrifices to death from blades of slaughter,

Mountains dressed in mist from God's touch, 

Birth of old fruits, Valhalla returns from dust. 

Carmine veiled visage soaked in valour,

Terror dripped in freedom, shadows honour,

Warm yet like ice, immortality surrendered,

Life swollowed by nature as death murmured.