The Hour of Ruin

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Wind blowing through, sorrow on its tail;
Caressing all with reason to mourn.
Lingering, hiding, the dark abides,
Whispering for those who will join.
See the body bent in rage, their soul lost to the mighty wind.
The shadow following behind, silent and unknowing.
Hear the body cry in grief, the shadow receding.
The dark conquers, howling in its glory.
Mystery hangs overhead, pulling at broken souls.
This is the hour of ruin.
Midnight falls, magnifying that which is lost.
Hear the tick of the clock.
Feel the soul trapped in time, longing for its body.
Damaged and bruised, the soul withers away.
Stars illuminate the grey mist, shrouding that which still lives.
History; times past and nothing learned.
The glow of life, and the dark of death.
The body, the soul, and the shadow, now lie in the dark. A dark that doesn’t fade away.
See from far away, the little blue glows flickering.
The dark lurks, hissing at the light.
Feel the dark gather strength; closing in, it extinguishes all blue glows in a single, swift span overhead.
Mystery, hear the ghosts whisper in the starlight, warning of an hour.
An hour not to come for another moon.
This, the hour of ruin.





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