Whispers of Those to Come

Within every last breath, an Essence Written in the stars Structure in the space between Fates woven in tapestry A Life, so precious Its Death, a dream anew Though the earthpulse has faded Our inner rhythm remains These barren lands, filled with Death Still bear its unmistakable echo Death in three faces Self, soul, form Death in three phases Near, cycling, final An Aberrative presence An Oos-touched being A hand scratches away Soot covering the eyes Within displays of strength, a substance Written in the stones Scriptures in the sheer mountains Crests painted from blood I climbed this mountain And beheld Vistas so unfamiliar Yet unmistakably sublime The seat for a greater power Beckoned ahead of us Behind those high walls Within those tall grasses Ruins of forgotten empire Babel's last remnant The uncrumbled foundation, colossal Etchings uneroded by hubris's folly We shall transcend these things Become gods in marbled flesh Great lords of eight-legged beasts Navigators of the endless seas Blind, unseeing wanderers Nomads of the great plateaus A union - a greater power Those who ruminate on Death Endeavorers of Monumental laud Seeking to subjugate the lot Between every last breath, an echo Written in the pulse Whispers in the space between Those to come from those long past