The Song of the Dead

Ben Huber

In the dark of night, I hear them call,

Whispers on the wind, a haunting thrall.

The spirits of the dead, they come to me,

In dreams and visions, for all to see.

Their voices echo through the endless gloom,

A mournful dirge, a never-ending tomb.

Their faces pale, their eyes filled with dread,

A warning of the fate that lies ahead.

For death is not an end, but just a change,

A shift into the shadows, a soul's exchange.

And though we try to hide from what we fear,

The dead will always be forever near.

So heed their call, and listen to their song,

For in their words, the truth will soon belong.

And though their words may chill us to the bone,

We'll find the answers that we've always known.

In the dark of night, I hear them call,

Whispers on the wind, a haunting thrall.

And though I fear the truth that they reveal,

I know that it is what I must feel.