Praised Be The Downfall

Through treacherous vastness 
of an untouched distant sun 
slowly striding on foot 
the last sacrament, readily 
Opens the door, 
To Obliveon 
in its' glorious omniscience 
revealing my empty mortality 

It isn't the ashes 
Which rains upon my head 
But rather 
The confused damnation 
That reconsiders 
My renounced restless filigree 

High on the dawning firmament 
Climbs my patience 
Denying my early repentance 

For I am the guardian 
of exalted beauty 
of death