Pinnacle Of Time

October 16, 2010
The final grains have gone kinetic as the horizon kisses the sun.
The six digits of the timer are the same; except for one.
Final breath; the dam finally falls,
The system ripped asunder,
The gears grind and crush themselves beneath the pressure they are under.

Artisan’s legacy turned to rust
At the same moment the King’s stolen trust
Was used undo all of his will,
and all of his wealth turned to dust.

Every flower will wilt and gray.
No person left to love or pray.
At the apex of the final day:
A cloud of dust in the rays…

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