Somewhere beyond the promises
of a new dawn
the circles of mysteries
and sacred places
swirl in an endless storm
born before time began
and lost forever on a path
of dust and memories.
In the blink of an eye
circling shadows of lives spent
come and go, come and go.
The crows were the last
to tell our stories
but they have gone
and no one heard them go.
Now all that is left
to mark the kingdoms of men
is barren rock
drowning in drifting yellow sand.
Standing at the edge
of the world
I await the new dawn
that will end this long night.
-- Michael Robinson
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