A blue-grey house atop a hill,
Molding, shaping to a creator’s will.
/A green, hilly peak with nothing below,
Pressed against a sky the colour of sorrow.
/Grey-brown trees line the ground,
Twisted, and tangled with no life to be found.
/In the house a light appears,
Tiny, and dim, but showing no fears.
/Soon more lights flicker on,
Enough light now to mimic the dawn.
/The light bursts out the warped windows,
Striking through the sky defeating its foes.
/The once dreary scene, dark and dead,
Bursts with life and extinguishes dread.