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My own ashes have covered the road of a distant past

Buried in a forgotten path

No matter how many consequences have arrived, there is never looking back

Always forging onwards

Existence is short, every moment counts

The plagues and pestilence always grow but the wings of hatred carry me on

Soaring across the cemetery halls and into the pits of mourn

In battles for the vision, carry on with this mortal pace

And to ponder with mental incision to witness the end of this storming disgrace

The end may be near, but don’t throw down the sword

Carry on with this mortal pace, archaic lore is power and isolation is the key

And as my fire consumes your so called darkness the distant ancestor recharges my soul This is the promised ravage …

(Burning deadly rage, endless Volcanic-Decimating-Etherealism)