"The light grew old and the hour itself reeked of pure finality..."
The air was still, breathing unease of oblivion's glacial release And a promise of grave cold serenity
Among the lost, the tombless few granted a sight, a perfect view To feast our eyes on a world scale demise
For what were we if not mere flies upon a storm bound to arise Set to unfold from the very womb of Time
I witnessed the Death of the Tyrant sans fear beheld the fading light
Bereft and left for death to take us 'cross distances unseen, To worlds beyond this ether on the broken wings of a dream For the hour is upon us Cimmerian night unveiled And all shall be redone where past creators failed
Lay down and embrace the deathlong sleep For time has come for this crop to be reaped
