Standing, At Heaven's Door

There is a season be all things aneath this sun.... Knowing tis not the time for romance whileas standing Upon that the edge of her world; peering intently into it's truth ? America's commander in chief spending half his term attending memorials Battling the white wolf with poisoned fangs hollow words better, a refrain Then serving ghost one cannot behold their generations ? This prince.. Waxing gross time's toast traveling to as from lifting, your bitter cup ? His Broken bows catering unto hope's own demise; shifting sands scripted shards Of emerald glass these eyes ? An abomination, fallen from her stars; cryptogram Sitting atop tomorrow's pendulum this temple set aflame; a portent ? Omega's child.