Oxiplegatz

Like a ripple on the ocean, flee these years of mine.
Oh the bonds of time - the squandering of lives,
while the world turns ever on.
Eternal - the plague that haunts us,
the serpents eye, the breath of winter, the reaper,
the flame that scorches the soul of man - cold, cold...
Lingering voices, whispering tales;
"The Earth that we are spawn of renders our fluids to ocean and rain.
Gone, gone, our deeds and glory".
Farewell, you land of despondency...
What journey - the End?