From the ash, a new age rises.
The cinders of old gods and men
burn again as new things rise,
the wheel spins ever onward.

But the embers are dimmed,
and fire returns ever lesser.
The age of gods takes its toll
on the dark age of mankind.

With every cinder, the fire dies
as it is forced to burn anew.
The cooling breeze of darker nights
has been denied too long.

Ash settles, but these cinders
no longer kindle in the sky.
Be cold, be forever still,
the old ways are returning.