I’d rather take off
Into the jet-black scourge
The unknown remnants
That shadows each dusk

Than perish unsought for
And dulled with age
Faint and hollowed
Useless and numb

I’d rather take hold
Of the reigns
And pierce the unslain
The eternal trail of night

In place of decay
Of a merciful death
Tranquil and sure
Foreseen and slow