The Ancient Stele Of Eurynome

In this glade of wrecked moons
Visceral aims hold our path
Bewildering realities show too our fate
And the quest for reasons of that bleak life
Crawls through our pale thoughts

We walk into the moors of murk
To reach at last the primeval abyss
The ashes polis from which we were born
The Yestermost dark

While we gather the thousand chains of our guiltiness
And the weight of our deserved doom
We see again the old stones screech
Nature got overwhelmed, tainted
And desolation dims each lost desire of all of us

Eurynome, the otherworld goddess, will show us why we drown in ruination
We evoke her on the stele of her dreary, glorious memories
A ruined stone is her grave, where she buried herself to deign us not of any glance

Fires of life we burn to celebrete her
And awful chants are whispered to her, while we accept our scourge
She won’t answer to our appeals: We leave, realizing our own sentence is undeniable