Stagnant tides entreat the skies, an air too thin to breathe.
I want to have this moment again and I know I will but when?
As the trees turn to ash, the siren’s song beckons the end, beckons the end.
Scorched earth, desiccate sea.
My hopes fall, one by one.
And I saw the stars following the clouds.
Breaking through the grey, a call from the arcane bellows:
“Purge the final stone of breath.”
Monoliths crumble under the mist of death.
The flame which coils underneath,
a sight which eyes deceive.
Black dawn, sinking hearts.
Persistence breeds ignorance.
A supple branch, a timid root reveal the life coursing underneath.
And from the clouds overhead, vessels of immortality.
Illuminate the path, patterns found in between.
And as the sun sets, a wave of hope washes over me.