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Fires now are all burned through

And hollow windows stared

Memories kept close to you

In priest-holes never shared,

Hands that cut your ragged stone

To hold the world at bay

Marked by time’s cold blood and moans

Feted Lords have their day,

Cast upon the bloodied land

Proclaim the rise of one

Beneath the foot, beneath the hand

Dynasties now gone,

And winter has the final word

In histories we fall

Ruins carved beneath the sword

In time repeated all.



© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2020