Many a year ago, a land was unscathed,
while every where else seemed to fade.
Its people believed and persevered,
knowing their ways were protected by the dell.
The land was beautiful before it fell:
a place where people could peacefully dwell,
see the birth of the stems to flowers
and watch the stars from their towers.
A green isle haven untouched by spoiled hands
with a greed in the mind being used as powers.
Not a moment wasted Chronos’s trickling sands.
Every where covered in sweet fruits and beautiful flowers.
Ah, such like a wonderful dream, to watch from conception
to the birth of such fruits and flowers.
Brightening their world with gorgeous mention
with such life for such long daily hours.
Children ran about fearless on the street
raised on the teaching of their elders that meet
The Forefathers lessons taught in the towers of the day
and night that left them feeling gay.
Though the day be bountiful, the night was loved.
Clear skies showed the stars shinning bright
winking at everyone below, their watchful angels peeking out for a sight
while peacefully singing a lullaby to beautiful melody.
A lullaby rapidly sung to a disoriented melody-
A lullaby lost within a corrupting melody.
The black clouds rolled over their tranquility.
Their hearts of valor could only take so much tragedy!
Blood fell from the wars
replacing the watching of the stars.
They were caught up in what they fought-
forgetfulness slipped in-
They forgot for what it was they fought,
their greatest sin.
Blood on their hands poisoned the hearts
valor on each triumphant day.
Time was jaded and reviled by bullet darts;
wasted on humans’ only accomplishment of the six arts.
Thantos won itself a throne today
on these forlorn streets.
A lonely wander is rabid with its way
in the midst of where the red sunlight lay.
Chronos forgive them misusing your precious sands.
They did what they thought they must to protect the land,
Each visitor agrees that you should open your hands
ad through your grasp pass their sands.
All that is left is the ghostly forms of a long gone time;
A throng hideous to the eye waiting for that lullaby and melody chime-
t chime again- reborn like the fruit and flowers gone up in flame .
Waiting, ever waiting, for Chronos to release them of their shame.
They are not pathetic knaves
just lost of their way.
Let your sympathy seep through their graves.
All they ask for is redemption one day.
They saw what was done in the light of the burning stems dieing.
The stars were gone twinkling no more like angels’ gems flying.