Plates of rocky granite grey
Shift, as the sands of time
Crumble between their jagged edges,
Creating ledges where the angels
Of barren lands sit and frown
As they look down upon a world
Which has been hurled into the
Darkness of a half-forgotten past.
And now, at last, a man stands alone
By a tarnished throne of broken dreams –
And so it seems that we have lost.
But after the frost there is always a thaw,
And the ice starts to pour from the edges of the ledges
Where the angels are warming their wings.
As the torrent sings,
As the gaps are sealed, the lands are healed.
Tarnish shall glimmer; rust shall fall away.
Tomorrow is another day.
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