The Wake

And I beheld the frost upon their skin
Hollow and adherent to none
Aimless
Their porcelain dead decorated the holes in the floor
I know not what I felt
For I know not what I saw
The ice that gleamed in the midday sun
Did not affect my judgment
And this surely a sign of ill-fated footsteps
Walls stripped as bare as its inhabitants
A duet of chanting resounded from the corner
Something remained.
Pained I am that these words have faded
However I fear their importance
And I beheld the raging storms
Multitudes of twisting winds
No matter where I perch or hide
I am found.
Blades of obfuscation
Whipping through my mind
Mundane affairs rendered irrelevant
For not all storms are of this world