Our World Burns Eternal.

A silent plea, to all that will ever be, as I weep in longing, my long forgotten glee,

As the sun no longer shines, the moon never pulls the tides, as the tyrannical reality of whoever bastard comes to seek power in this abandoned city, does not fail to remind me, this would be the end.

Our world of small skylines, of this meek land, humble and of stone, comes a-crashing and a-crumbling, like sand falling through the cracks of home.

And as I hold your hand, dearly in my own, as I gaze over our small skyline, as the sun gives it's final triumph, as the city below us burns in ashes and sings in flames, engulfed in orange and covered in gray, a song I used to always sing comes to mind.

And I think...

...this isn't so bad.

You're here.

In our memory, our world burns eternally.