Empty words

Empty words:

Written in the blood of a dying soul
The physical vessel, the shell of a being
Beats on. This monochromatic trek of destiny.

What happens, O, Wise One, to the soul of the damned?
When it crosses the age old slats?
When the bridge creaks and moans under its burden?
What awaits we Children in the Otherworlds?

Do we sing and dance with our gods in the land of the Fae?
Or burn in eternal flames with Fallen Angels?
Are we Shades, trapped in the worlds below with Hades?
Or in our death do we simply cease to be?

And what path am I, a Warrior Childe, to take?
Heeding the songs of those long since dust
And abiding by laws my ears have never heard
Communing with those, always near, yet so far away.

With one hand, I heal and nurture, take away so many pains
And the other, I crush and destroy, rallying troops for war
And with my heart I sing my Warrior-Cry
Honoring and worshiping my Queen

O, this life alone is a perilous trek
Over and under the highest summit
Through valleys and moors and killing fields
Through all, our days are numbered

So tell me, O Wise One, what do you know
Of when our days are over
What happens to us when we've bled our last blood
And our lungs can hold breath no more?

Empty words written in the blood of a dying soul.