While slowly and inexorably
Drag us over the hill
Where ashes smell of new life
Every choice will be revelead
Each arcane gesture
From the most destructive to the most subtle
Will be regained
If fog still hides the expression
on the faces of the dead
Wait for a new day.
The absurd concept of time
is what disintegrates what we make mortal.
Let the knots be the vein of your ruination
Let the knots be the vein of collapse
And your body will become your temple.