No prayer for the dying or the undead
Entombed in halls of molding ancient stone
Their blood is black and thick which once ran red
On iron knives their claws and teeth they hone
Grey skin stretching over old brittle bone
Their eyes are vast and empty, in them the world
Hearts have the secrets which the gods have known
At the speed of light they see stars reborn
A minute to midnight, they know it’s ending
An eternity spent in cosmic cold
Living after death the damned ascending
Ice in the sun, moons of alien mold
They will soon return, planet in their hand
Devour the world, running through time’s sand

Other sonnets:

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