Posted by: Moses | January 23, 2007

Bow

In a land ages away,
Slashing apart the swirling mists, an ethereal spire
Juts from a war-wrent wasteland, standing strong, alone, unforgiving, and grey.

A brilliant funeral pyre
Burns before this towering mausoleum.
Melodic dirges drift off, snippets of former glories, flowing from a crisp lyre.

To ruin there is always addendum,
A Renaisance from Rome, propitiation from pain.
From molten, warring factions, a redeemer will extract a purified Christendom.

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