The Putrid Stench of Rotting Death

Vast plains of desolate earth beyond sight
Life erased, nothing but dust and ash
Standing on the edge of life, mind shut
Body entranced, only one path lies ahead

A great ravine, without end
Grasping towards the void
Hands lose touch, eyes wide shut
Body disintegrates, mind rots

Standing on the edge of death
There is only one path ahead

Liberated from this corpse
Crows feed upon my entrails
Yet the spirit is pure, the fire intact
A glowing light, a faint whisper