Spirit

My life dies away.
If they want they slay.
The priest does his rite,
I set off my last flight...

The land smells pleasant.
There is a calm wind above it.
Trees whisper something at the top,
But heavy stone presses it,
Presses on my weak breast.

When he pronounces
Last prayer I shall die!
Right now he is saying this,
But spirit can control time.
Just it is stopping it.

Constant wind is on a hill I stand.
To live is to die!
Death is a dark cave, freedom too.
Even death may die.
What I could I've done.
Now I'm to die!

All is said and done.
I'll never see Earth's sun.
The priest rises cross.
I feel that Land is frost…