I am decrepit. I am falling apart.
And so are the lighter sides of life.
They seem distant as in a dream.
Remembered when one wakes up.
Shadows pass us buoyant.
No confirmation of our presence.
Life was once and we wonder how.
That is arcane, so is existence.
Ageless we are, without a face.
With all features peeled off.
We deserve what is ours.
Exist against logic.
Unaware of what life was supposed to be.
Take the path that leads to resolution.
The ashes of the burnt will rise again.
The roaming entity became aware of life.
And so knowing, an existence alone.
Winter is forthcoming.
Promise me eternally, seer.
The torn apart by strife.
That is cold as northern winter nights.
