time that once was burning in depths, 
a time that withered the mind. 

Being venomous, blood, 
on a purified soil. 

Night on the edge of the day. 

Beholding the rising, 
beholding these paths. 

new aeon. 

Reaching the way out, away, 
without finding it. 

Beholding the dance of shadows. 

In the cold nest of plague that spreads warmness into me.