small and nameless, Kronos summons
one such Titan who's born to fate,
to numbered days until fully grown,
to lashes of satin and of stone.
sailing songs into the breeze
lost in skies of hum and tease
failing to see what it all meant
among all the hollow remnants,
of broken kings and pauper wings,
of vacancy and necromancy
our "once we were" and "as we will"
come soothingly upwards into a chill
and we can fight and disagree
until our suns resign and our spirits free,
The Fall creeping, meek and shy
Or when we're ready, after the Fly