Cold, desolate night – I am alone, somewhere in the hills of Candae.
Silence echoes beyond the bounds of these mounds of earth.
The floor is frozen. The water – like liquid ice.
Feet slipping against the glacier,
I look down the cliff off which I fall.
Endless wingless flight, what feels like a million miles.
Time begins to slow, stretching space as it does so,
Till I find myself falling into an empty abyss.
There is no sound here, no sight nor feeling,
No taste, touch nor scent;
Death could be no closer.
The imminence of the end is upon me,
Like the cold stare I face before the mirror;
Blank, emotionless expression.
These lips have never been so parallel.
In this equation I find myself a flaw,
A fatal error, an aleph-null.
I feel the pen strike across my existence,
Reducing me to none.
Warm glistening Sun tells me the day is done,
As the clouds wrap up and leave,
Swells my bitten tongue.
Perhaps I spoke too soon.
Perhaps I shouldn’t have spoken at all.
My words have turned against me,
My race has been outrun.
Night brings forth its fright,
In the shadows cast by moonlight.
I creep slowly in the dark,
Hiding from creatures that lurk.
Beyond this – is nothing,
And I have not left my mark.
My footprints in the sand will be washed away,
By every wave that comes it way.
The imminent end has come,
As night and day become one.
I climb upon my tomb,
And sing my siren song.
No ears will ever hear,
No eyes will ever see,
The Life that lost to Death
In a game that was never won.