The End Is Nigh

Like a ripple on the ocean, flee these years of mine.
Oh the bonds of time — the squandering of lives,
While the world turns ever on.
Eternal — the plague that haunts us,
The serpents eye, the breath of winter, the reaper,
The flame that scorches the soul of man — cold, cold…
Lingering voices, whispering tales;
«The Earth that we are spawn of renders our fluids to ocean and rain.
Gone, gone, our deeds and glory».
Farewell, you land of despondency…
What journey — the End?
What alien land awaits the soul of man?
The sparkling womb where stars are born, the solemn halls of heaven.
Seeking solace from deaths furnace as shadows fall upon us…
Now ghastly my eyes burn, and stars.
And stars…