Three shadows cast by celestial hands
In the valley, one soul from this life now disbands
A worn cross clutched tight in trembling hands
As wings of shadows flee the vaults
Signs of struggle in sacred halls
A cry for mercy echoes down the walls

Cold and silent as the stone-carved altar
The fortress stands, a desolate keeper
Once a symbol of the sacred hills
Now veiled in snow and bitter chills
Within waits the lost, estranged from light
In thirst for life, yet bound in night
Was it a voice like thunder’s roar
That shook her thoughts of sins before

Or a memory faint, as the moonlight waned
Through shadows cast in windows strained
And darkened eyes blinked open wide
At the groaning woods on every side

Like a Siren’s song, yet not her own
From hollow choirs’ repentant moans
Where restless souls call back to grace
From barren darkness they retrace

To the wayward heart, her broken art
In sorrow’s tower, midnight’s mark
Under heavens cut by ancient scars
Where shattered reigns of despair give way
To light that dawns and won’t decay
In the silent glade where saints still pray

Or a memory faint, as the moonlight waned
Through shadows cast in windows strained
And darkened eyes blinked open wide
At the groaning woods on every side

Like a Siren’s song, yet not her own
From hollow choirs’ repentant moans
Where restless souls call back to grace
From barren darkness they retrace
To the wayward heart, her broken art
In sorrow’s tower, midnight’s mark
Under heavens cut by ancient scars
Where shattered reigns of despair give way
To light that dawns and won’t decay
In the silent glade where saints still pray