With sight clear
We saw what road lay ahead
Burning in flames for the glorious end
Destiny clad, upon the stone’s cast
Breathing, living, dying
Within empty eyes of an effigy’s mask
Decrepit relic from the past
Blackened bones
Empty hands
As the rain turns iron to rust
In the lonely grave of bygone blood
Time’s cruel march, onwards it turns
Ceaseless, breathless, dying
Flash-blind in stellar burst
Silhouettes of an empire, returned to dust
Receding illumination, darkness returns
Creeping archaic harvest yearns
Blackened bones
Empty hands
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