The Grey Pilgrimage

Vespers sung from parched throats hasten the darkening of the skies,
Laments rise soothing inducing melancholy dreams that will expire,
Reverent silence welcomes tired and weary souls back into the fold ,

Invariably, from this sedateness emanates a gale the weary cannot elude,
For their searching souls are on peregrination, aching to find peace,
Ghostly entities wander through realms only kindred souls find solace in,

The hope for like-minded and search of a home drives restless minds,
Into these shades of grey where photo-phobic creatures feel acquainted,
Though falsehoods run rampant and roughshod over tombs of abandonment,

Time tells the tales thus wrought like a litany against ordained despair,
Immuring the viscous torment that seeps through the chinks of fortitude,
Which inexorable leaks to drip and hit the footing of the trestle yclept soul,

The detriment it consigns ravages the anima by leaving ghastly seams,
To claw the existence by its ankles, grab it, shake it, and finally crush it,
And in this quietus thus found freedoms opens wide and becomes more than real,

Drifting into this iridescent nebula lurking beyond the end of days,
Forlorn figures collide and merge basking in the mirrors' confusing light,
Transfixed by the promise of companionship and the virtue of a lingering demise.