"Motion breaks the stillness. Once more resurrection begins.

Glittering flecks upon a hundred thousand stretching wings, golden yellow bursting from those grey craven things.

Molted now, tendrils bind ashen cocoons to decrepit coffins.

Roots penetrate rock, bones turn to ash, nothing escapes decay beneath the nuptial moths.

New life is born from what came before, borne upon golden wings and carried evermore." -Chiral Dream, retained