A race of people whose bones tolled like bells when the traveler shed bliss upon their world early each solar cycle.
I watched them with slackjawed edge from my little corner of universe with unholy, godly rhetoric.
Through my scope of foresight I saw their futile attempts at peace, love, war, and all things human.
Warm illusions of grandeur filled their view oftentimes as I stretched my ancient tendons.
I blew staunch breezes and razing storms that shook a world to the core with reckless abandon.
And they returned to me, nothing more than fizzled essence.
Honeyed words, broken culture, and finally, wasted life itself.

With what is yours, do what you fancy.

But forget not what is fiction, and what is firm.