#nascence
There; in the horizon of the furthest state,
Speaks the death of the Holy Gate;
No roads lead to the desert of wonder,
Except for the mirage just yonder,
In the eyes of this humble crystal tear -
So these misfortunes may lowly appear -
To march the band out of it’s bay,
For a sound was not made - on the dying day.
Jan 21, 2016
Jan 21, 2016 at 1:56 PM UTC