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WEAVING THROUGH BLACK METAL MISTS

Over in the distance lies an ancient forest, of Oak and Pine.  Dark and grim, quiet and still this place my tomb for eternity.  On the forest floor rotting down with earth and beasts feed upon me.

The moon is full shrouded by the mists, its power above me.  A majestic force that draws me on ancient and mysterious as the forest below.  The mist carries me along to my earthern grave, the silence is eerie in this nocturnal time.

Entering the forest for the last time, the mist lays me down hanging over me like a solitary ghost, a menacing guard until dawn when im taken forever.