Dance Of The Ages

In the light of the dusk

I see the crest of the moon,

The silhouette of the trees

The dark of the bloom.

Mother Earth wants to rest,

Our presence, her test,

We are a virus at best

Demonstrating her doom.

Father Sun wants to shine

His light is divine,

Our soul he’ll awaken

But only in time.

The chosen are none

Yet the chosen are all,

He’ll grant us he’s warmth,

While Mother Earth dies in the cold.

Those that will rise

Will do so with heart,

They’ll see with such eyes

They’ll see those that are masked.

And those that they’ll see

Will rise up in arms,

War will commence…

…The ‘Lords’ divine dance.