The crypt has been cold and mossy... The air within the dephts remains hard to breath. Still living, eyes closed within the tomb but with high awareness... Dreams searching for the continuum and perhaps a sweet and sour solace. The sound of my own breath give way to silent murmurs coming from earth's hold. What is it? When will be time? For the centuries pass by and rising seems an aloof desire. Not even the need to feed gives will to the body... Once again the gentle slumber and its dream cradle suffice to fulfill the need... Body can wait, ancient and eternal it is. Dormant, silence and murmurs give way to the images that flash in a blur and gives way to confussion , wonder and pain. Alas! No need to brood on the imagery... Pointless torment...

Here I am, the immortal questioning Fate... questioning the Endless and claiming the glory paid with blood... Insanity holding on, grasping the web of thoughts and reality and mist and betrayal... Humans waste themselves, a cattle that should be ignored if only for survival of us... kindred... And we may even crave their waste...

Silent lingering... The cold walls rise and give back the echo, the craving, the mirage...

I am to sleep some more, numb my senses to the human world and wait for the time when retribution will become us, will become my own, will impale my senses and allow a savoring of extinct old blood and rebirthing new elixir of life.

Fading murmurs echo the plea that so many souls repeat, from ancient tongues to newest child...

Silent stir...

10-4