Listen.

Idle fires

wonder loosely on the

bridge. To grow and Fight they’re never

Ment to hold. Upon the style of Wise for-

bidding thought. And yet the fire stubborn breeds pro-

ducing beacons armies follow seuth. The bridge stands tall

stalwart against forceful powers, yielding not to greedy growing

foul sparks of nature’s final sweep. Deteriorating fast succumbing

quick upon its rival’s growth. Invading mindless nothings dance inside the structure

whom had granted life to early sparks of ash that never could have prospered well be-

fore. It grows and lives more violently as styles that once gave structure fall apart before the

eyes of witnesses for sage. Those who mourn the loss of styles only lose their lives before the flame.