A whisper of ruin

Can be the same

In all languages.

 

A hint of dread

Can twist its fear

In all hearts.

 

A script of fire

Can scribe records of conquest

Across empty skies.

 

And I, the messenger

Will drift between spaces,

Dressed in a warning.

 

And I, the observer

Will remember this sadness

As I banish the light.

 

 

Advertisements