Standing Start from Benthic Lines by Dan Lyth and the Euphrates

I almost had found what I always had sought
One moment profound one glorious thought
A notion divine to have graced my mind
My final lines to be cast into iron
But the click-clacking calls and discreet creeping claws
Render all else as nought and put death to the thought
Almost formed
Fallen cold

This is the speed at which we choose to travel
The rate at which all our thoughts unravel
Hunting for flies and consumed by our finds
It's the rise and decline of the fruit of our minds
Still I rejoice at avoiding the abyss
Keep hold of my coins and my personal bliss
Mortal, flawed
Morbid hoard

So we'll make our peace with the surface of seas
While leviathans lurk in the deep underneath
And forget all we've learned
All the scrolls we have burned
Forget our concerns and the stones left unturned
Because this is the speed at which we travel
The rate at which all our thoughts unravel
Almost formed
Fallen cold

We had feeling we had lost
We were stealing it had cost
We sold our sight, we sold our sight
We were hunting we had searched
We were building it had burnt
We knew what's right, we knew what's right

Hark, hear marching, call the far-flung shards of your heartache
Taking, breaking, unafraid by the acres of darkness

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