There will be no more when the sands of time drop their last kernel into the forbearing sea of thought
Amongst the gallows only the riddled few remain at their wits and cry out for more against the heat
Soon, too, shall man kind seek out the blissful revenge of what has eluded their existence
With bombs and conquerors and their unrelenting performance of celebrated efforts
The last drop shall remain frozen in the air like the memories of y’or
Without much hope for the removal of sinful elegance captured in the mind of the youth
Who strive for their lovers without concepts of legacy, without understanding of respect
But who knocks there, if not the newest hero of the day, with flashing armor and manicured demeanor
I shall present this final hour like the news of a landing, or the disappearance of a breed
And all those around shall mourn like a lover, lost with their thoughts and passive listlessness
And I shall sigh with eternal sadness that was thought to have died long ago; persevered none-the-less
Like them in their time and forgetful of mind, one kernel shall remain grasping at hope and sustain