beejai

This Age Descending





For all that is made real

In this age descending

Where heroes leave naught

But the iron ring of their names

From bardic throats

I stand in this silent heart

Yearning the fading beat

Of lives fallen to dust

And the sifting whisper

Proclaims glory's passing

As the songs fail

In dwindling echoes

For all that is made real

The chambers and halls

Yawn empty to my cries-

For someone must

Give answer

Give answer

To all of this

Someone