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.
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