Before my feet lay scattered, remnant offerings of a world far lost
Topaz and silver glisten among the frailest blades of grass
Each motionless, deafened by the stillness of the dead, void of color
Long neglected by the light, a reflection of attrition
Kneeling to collect thy worldly offerings, my path remains uncertain
A familiar apparition receives me, a construct of my living memory
Long since passed from the land, her spirit has come to guide me
Anima from life beyond, extending her reach to me
Rising to my feet, I awaken from transmigration
Where flesh has expired, spirit shall wander
Where the light goes to slumber, delusions conjure
Radiating upon a blackened sky, the sleeping star extends its grasp
To a land which He does not reveal, dwelling eternally in dismal twilight
The plains are silent and windless, the air stilled as if listening for His presence
The one who hoards, mounding a temple of souls
His collection lacking but one, one named I
Once bound to me through lineage, since eradicated through banishment
He waits, ever patient, harboring a malice
Shadow of the former son, bones dissolved within the sand
The skin reduced to an ophidian reflection of his former self
Complexion misconstrued by spite, cast from light eternally
Waiting for the passage to unfold, such that he may inhabit the living once more
Kneeling to collect thy worldly offerings, my path remains uncertain