No More Seasons Shall Be Shed

Gradient of flint and stone
Where for art thou now my home
For in this land we walk alone
And I am not the one carved from stone

For no more seasons, shall be shed
Less I be, in death instead
For in the silence there are screams
And I am caught in endless dreams

Solemn be those written words
By passage made but seldom heard

Unless I come to tatter the preachers
For I have neither come to teach
Nor shall I ever long to preach

Mystic be the solemn words
By which the brethren's breath is cursed

Vested be the sword I’ve shown
For I am not the one carved from stone
Beseech of me, as I may seek you out
Gradient be the seed of doubt