After the tides of war have receded,
And the fires of eternity are but a smolder,
The last of life has ceased,
The final man has lost his breath,
The sands of time will rise into burning skies,
And fuse into wings of glass,
Soaring along the ripples of the pulse of all creation,
Only to lose momentum,
Shatter against the bottom of the abyss,
And burn to dust,
Blown by cosmic winds
Back to the infinitesimal point
From whence it, and all else came.