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a wasted illness - david moore lyrics

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through vaults of pain
enribbed and wrought with groins of ghastliness
i passed, and garish spectres moved my brain
to dire distress

and hammerings
and quakes, and shoots, and stifling hotness, blent
with webby waxing things and waning things
as on i went

“where lies the end
to this foul way?” i asked with weakening breath
thereon ahead i saw a door extend *
the door to death

it loomed more clear:
“at last!” i cried. “the all*delivering door!”
and then, i knew not how, it grew less near
than thеretofore

and back slid!
along the gallеries by which i came
and tediously the day returned, and sky
and life—the same

and all was well:
old circumstance resumed its former show
and on my head the dews of comfort fell
as ere my woe
i roam anew
scarce conscious of my late distress . . . and yet
those backward steps through pain i cannot view
without regret

for that dire train
of waxing shapes and waning, passed before
and those grim aisles, must be traversed again
to reach that door

- david moore lyrics

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