Spore Ensemble

Descending through cavernous, black fungal chasms
in search of a forsaken Kingdom once lost
furtive foulness, that lurk in the shadows
bioluminosity outlining their hulking forms

Rearing up from the gulch now before him; the roots of Ankath-Shol
the bastion of Yeth-Shuul; hunter of mortal souls

Life is fleeting, death is vital, and essential to his cycle
All is finite, yet not final, pain is pleasure, fear is primal
Love and hatred; paralysing, conflict driving and dividing
in the rapture of his spiral, constant fight for survival

Lost in the maze of his playground of bloodlust
hounded by the hunters just outside of sight
Adrenaline coarsing, pushing him harder
consumed by paranoia, in a bid to escape the night

From a swallow hole black as the void
gore drenched tendrils reach
revealing a gaping maw filled with innumerable iron teeth

Endless mass of writhing horror, oozing and putrid
filling the air, dense and oppressive

drained of vitality he falls to his knees
Now at the mercy of the beast
There are no questions, no mysteries left
he feels most alive when faced with death

Terror manifest permeating his flesh
Never to feel the same again

From this nightmare he turns and runs
faster than he has ever done
Leaping farther, striding harder
What does not kill him makes him strong.