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
