Ashes fall faintly, and slow through space. Their path leads back to distant stars. This, the decent of their last rising sun washes up and over The living and the dead
We will be purged by the Ashes, that fall from the clouds. Ancient wisdom drifts along cosmic streams. Tides of time, show me the way. The essence of the throne, overwhelms and quells my soul.
The ecstasy within these falling mirrors Reflect not confusion but certainty. Comfort in the path I’ve chosen. Fear no longer the brewing storm, but welcome the calm that comes before.