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Quiet lies the soil of dawn's wake

The fields await it still, deadlike, frozen

Gray dim shades slowly flow by hidden

Like a veils umbra they stir beyond notice

The transition has begun

Only a warrior's blessing will do

The ritual's outcome depends on it

Affecting all who strive to see the heavens

From nowhere they appear into the open

Visible at once to the vulture's sight

Force jargon adaption, lined up to oblivion

Tied to one fate and one fate alone

As the air thickens they come alive

Another cane placed in the sand

Sinking as it's eaten to immersion

Wood turned into liquid gold

The polygon of strivers take form in the far distance

Nothing but the turn of squealing wheels is perceived

This one has seen through the worst of hailstorms and fires

Still it keeps forming trails everywhere it turns

The carriage is moving the load of the lost

from the several that have heard it rumble

Sickness has left its soul mark upon those

who've come too close or crossed its path

Long have they traveled yet they've only covered the harder ground

Numbers have been put to past, and there are many more to forget

Onward the carriage rolls just to see a meaningless journey's end

The rise of the seven suns

Spawn the beams in stale sot

Scraping the remains from the virgin skull

There is nothing emptiness can't fill