The end is near.
The door opens
And with it a breath of air
But it is no benign gust
But the warm murky stench of his presence
He is waiting
The clouds enter, and with them bring
The precipitation of the end
Night, that beautiful nurse
Has fallen into the abyss
Overshadowed by blinding destruction
Of that bright inevitable light
Which breeds evil.
Oh what can stand before,
when even the staunchest resistance fails
The unbroken redoubt is surrounded
Beaten back but not broken yet
The end will come
And with it the glittering reminiscence
Of all that was in the peaceful winter
Summer scorches all.
We are overrun
But in these pockets that are still held we remain
Till when must we endure this unknown foe
Where are the songs of old and those who sang them
Where are the mighty, and the feats of arms renowned
The joys of battle and the songs of slaying
Or were they just a dream, that blew into the Blue Mountains
Strong, but ineffective, against those giants of rock
We are dwindling.
Every man watches another's back
But to what avail, when we exist only in demarcation
A mere clean spot on the sullied canvas of the world
As we knew it. It too shall fall.
There is no glory to be found here.
For even though we hold, we give way
A yard at a time. The dirge goes up a note
We strive to make a worthy end.
Yet to whom shall it be of worth?
There are none left to sing songs of our courage
No one to recite lays of this defiance.
Not even the foolhardy dare to  hope.
For there is no one to hope for.
We know of our end. We have made peace with this war.
It shall consume us.
We shall all fall, and yet, none will be left behind.