Whispers of the Midnight Tomb

a poem by talker the chosen one
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Whispers of the Midnight Tomb

In shadows deep, where silence sighs,
Beneath the somber, moonlit skies,
There lies a grave, where none dare tread,
Where ancient whispers wake the dead.

The wind, a mournful, hollow breath,
Speaks secrets of forgotten death,
And in the midnight’s chilling gloom,
Echoes softly from the tomb.

Once there was light, once there was grace,
Now sorrow haunts this cursed place.
The raven's cry, the willow’s moan,
Together weave a tale unknown.

The soul once bright, now lost to shade,
Within the crypt of dreams betrayed.
A lover’s kiss, a final plea,
Now drifts through time, eternally.

Oh, mourn the lost, forsaken soul,
Who wandered far, yet found no goal,
And in the grasp of fate’s cruel hand,
Was buried in this desolate land.

No dawn will come, no sun will rise,
For death has sealed his weary eyes.
In darkness cold, he shall remain,
A ghostly whisper in the rain.