What's left out of rumors from the past?
Empty houses, or crumbling ashen faces?
Kaukas have come here, that's all I know
They gaunt heavily through our cities.
And if these buildings are truly furrowed by these campfires,
Will I see that mister, that one day butterfly behind this dome?
No. He's gone. He left me hanging above this reality,
This seared, rotten fortress...
I see those beasts have gathered to a feast,
Calling me along, as means to endure this life.
Absurd! The alluring sin seeks to tempt me,
Yet I'm determined to mourn the one with wings.
And if you see me, say my name,
Adore my rippling reflection, even though you're scared...
I'll proceed to catch the butterflies between ashes,
So either give a hand or curse me - I don't care.
I will fulfill my promise for the one, who died,
Bury that poor being like my frozen heart...
Among the rumors of the past,
And gloomy ashen faces...
2019 IV 06