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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