Shredded fabric catches on the Atrophied remains of a willow, long dead. Past and future reflect each other As the seasons roll by. And nothing is worth waiting for. Still, surprised by decline, No design that I can find Can explain all the cruelty and death that lingers on. Nor put paid to the pain and regret of living long. On and on. Castigate and break the foolish Mother Who allowed her children's Nature to stray. They will punish her and turn in on Each other. Until the debt is paid. The Deathly Haze swallows all. The Deathly Haze. Solemnly he stares, the watchful Father. Keeping Time, with nothing to say. For he knows that, no matter the path, nothing alters. Until we learn, the Mother's pride, The Father's eyes, were all that we had. Long gone. It grips, in pain, around you. In silence and with no sympathy, Swallows you whole. And now, with no escape, Reacting to change all too late. The Door is thrown open wide And rushing in, from beyond, Judgment casts shade. Sweeping through the Haze at the End of Days, In darkness, triumphant, The Harbinger of Souls claims what he is owed, Expressionless and somber. The Debt of Aeons is paid as even gods were not saved From nothingness. The ending of all things, where nothing new begins, The Deathly Haze.