Time has no place here.
The throne of man cowers in the shadow,
For once our greatest kingdoms fall;
The trees will have but blinked.
Writing profound poetry of legacy and death,
Scratching the blood of ink into the white flesh of history,
Praying that our consciousness lives on.
We fear that we will be nothing,
That no man will rejoice in our wake,
That our greatest triumphs will fade into apathy.
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