THE CIMMERIAN FIELD

I stood before a boundless field,
Bleak and stark under a brooding sky,
The shifting clouds sometimes revealed,
A crow, circling on high.

A gentle breeze whispered there,
Only heard by hearts that grieve,
Agitating the acrid air,
Stirring the fallen leaves.

A sense of dread pervaded my soul,
A primal fear from deep within,
The time is nigh to pay the toll,
For every mortal sin.

Then at once I felt a chill,
As I crossed the threshold of the field,
The beating of my heart went still,
Every scar unheald. 

A final memory flashed through my mind,
As I passed  over to the other side,
Of everything I left behind,
In the time before I died,
The time before I died.