The wall stands against malice in the west

warden of the empty lands

with eyes watching for the soulless fear

that comes when winter’s night is low upon the world

crawling over rock and ruin

consuming all that stands to weather black tides

waiting for the solstice

and that last gasp of life

given to the binding in the deep

Then to wander on weary roads

until home becomes memory of fire and shadow

and eastward the sun rises on an empty hall

Now with a soundtrack!

Photo by Emily Ziegelmeyer on Unsplash

6 responses to “Weathering”

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