15 Mar Processional Dirge

I am headed home,
To my origins in bloodless dust,
Alike are tombs and wombs,
Both enclosed, both a must,
I am headed home,
To a place always populous
Where all shall be all alone,
I am headed home,
To the dreaded home,
Where flesh unto bone,
Bone unto dust,
Blows with the gust
To be again unknown,
So every evil, every lust,
Every envy and lie in broken trust
Is redoubled as debt, as is just,
For each shall reap what each has sewn
And mortal body, the blooded loan,
Repays to bone, repays to dust
To the Pit called bottomless
To the abyss of soil-stone,
To thence I have thus discussed,
I am headed home.