You Have Chosen

Sinking

Sinking lower and lower.
The faces watch the body sinking as bells toll a soul into eternity.
The pulse of many hearts united in sorrow;
sorrow edged with shock at Death’s mockery.

Death waits under the bell tower, masking the glory of the cathedral.
He is only a shadow, but the faces can feel him as he paces
- to and fro over the soulless graves.

Shrill metallic bats perch like royal crows on every upright death stone.
They watch Death tread past them with eager, contorted eyes.
Some of the creatures follow Death into the vault beneath the pealing ore,
leaving behind them a red and black emulsion of blood and sin.

The grave is locked.

The bats are hungry.
They thrum up and down as dangerous excitement beats through them.
Death is still, waiting for the faces to abandon the sepulcher.
When the horror filled faces are gone, he reaches a dark shadow to rip open the earth.

From the gaping hole rises a dark soul, hope drained as it beholds the spectacle.
The soul asks for fair judgment – it surely had not earned such darkness.
Death derives malicious pleasure from the statement.

You have chosen me, Death shouts, his wraith approaching the soul.
You chose me when you hungered for what you could see.
When the bell has tolled you into my haven, you will hear the noise of my ecstasy.
Daily, you will eat at my table of glorious darkness,
feasting upon the sorrows of your own verdict.