Every End Is Fated In Its Beginning

Mourn the last light, its fleeting passage
Mourn the breaking day
For every breath is written
And every end is fated in its beginnings

Dwell in the ruins
Dormant in the empty silence
Beneath crepuscular rays, cold stone at your back
Warmth has forsaken this place
Dwell in the ruins

Dormant in the empty silence
When all that you are is that which you’d discard
When every end is fated in its beginnings
As your hands turn to ash, breathe on them
(Scattered to the nothing)