Stones in shadow, black

move along the crack of closing reality,

a brilliant shimmering gold line of unbelievable.

Unbelievably true none-the-less.

Reality is the glinting line fast closing

Golden thought stays only where wanted.

Come to the darkness intones the stones

There find rest, which is peace, but for the continual grinding.

Perish there in half-truths and groping blinding ambiguity

The golden line is reality indeed and so lean away;

Too blinding

Too harsh.

We are all dying.

At night, the fires burn and the restless scream.

Moaning in darkness that the daylight will bring hope,

then curse and mock the golden glimmer of their prayers.

Break the windows, shatter the frail walls of long left alone!

Hope is in action, which is sitting still and understanding trust.

The hills still roll, evil hides in corners and the good move toward the end.

All stories end, so let’s begin.

The end will show the glinting line of gold and where one stands.

Stand anywhere but behind the stones of whispering.

They always said it couldn’t last-

‘They,’ don’t understand forever.