Acheron - Ovid's Withering

Darkness slowly diseased the skies

A treshhold unveiled to the fields of Elysium

The storms set in — a wall of wind tamed by Charon to open the path

To the blackened gates of damnation

The sordid god — the keeper of souls

With silver coins placed eye on eye

They marched on a field of coals

Upon Lord King Minos the fallen

Now calling for the next

He slurred his words as the drool fell from his jaw

«Nothing saves the guilty from these crimes unjust»

Condemned to a prison of pain or enlightment

Nigh, a wretched ship upon a cursed river

This Eternal Suffering

They tear the skin from the flesh of the damned

And thus, sent from afar the rotting bodies gather

Psyches from the corpses flow

With Charon’s fare misplaced

The dead roam the banks of Acheron

Cries of terror echo on

Through the depths of the forest in the heart of the wake

Embers drip from ebon blades — bound fire amongst the thralls

«Here is your betrayer.

Destined to feast on the blood of his own

He must breathe death and accept the trials of his consequence.»

Nigh, a wretched ship upon a cursed river

This Eternal Suffering

They tear the skin from the flesh of the damned

And thus, sent from afar the rotting bodies gather

Psyches from the corpses flow

With Charon’s fare misplaced

The dead roam the banks of Acheron

Now assigned to their lines of judgement

They await the Unseen — the god of Erebus

As a fortress of bone rose from the ground

In succession they were gifted forlorn providence

And like a stygian ghost, their flesh became brimstone as they descended deep

into the netherworld