the forgotten crypt

The Forgotten Crypt

Beneath the yew tree's twisted shade,
Where light of day has never strayed,
There lies a crypt, both old and deep,
Where restless souls forever sleep.

Its doors are sealed, its name erased,
By time’s cold hand, by death embraced.
No footsteps stir the dusty air,
No living soul remembers where.

But once, within those crumbled walls,
There echoed laughter through the halls.
Once life did bloom, with warmth and grace,
Now only shadows take its place.

At night, the moon with silver eye
Peers through the dark and silent sky.
It casts a glow upon the stone,
Where once a heart, now cold, has grown.

And from the crypt, a whisper calls,
A voice that through the darkness falls,
A plea, a cry, a lover’s wail,
Lost to the night’s eternal veil.

For deep within, entombed in sorrow,
A soul awaits a distant morrow,
A hope that never will arrive,
To see the dawn, to feel alive.

The crypt, forgotten, fades away,
But still its echoes haunt the day.
For what we bury in the ground
Shall rise again, without a sound.

So heed the silence, cold and clear,
For in its depth, a truth you’ll hear:
That nothing lost is ever gone,
But lingers on, though light be drawn.