So begins our undoing

In rich aplomb we sit

Atop the piles of gold and good

That we write to our credit,

When the good Lady Fortune’s scales tip

And the waves of Chaos come gushing in

From directions unventured,

To lay waste to our kingdoms.


So begins our undoing.


Then a shadow confronts us

To which, earlier, we became privy

Only in brief flashes of thought or dream,

And brushed away with impatience.

The darkest among us have a still darker self

Long lost and buried

Beneath the best of us.

The old altars lay slighted,

Our ideals bear no resemblance 

To the names we gave them.

We are ruled by Furies aplenty.

How do we rebuild our fallen kingdoms

Without Divine Guidance?


Somewhere along our final descent,

We meet the gods we banished.

A faint glow (perhaps even imagined) 

Beckons across the waste yonder.

Do we follow?

Or do we give in to the darkness? 

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