The Black AlbatrossSour wine sits in bottlesunripe fruit falls from the tree.Faceless men wanderLipless mouths curse.Green cornstalks witherTall trees fall down.Storms rend the earthClouds block the sun.Ice with no waterTrees with no leaves.Meat turns rancidBread turns to dust.Swords without bladesBlades without swords.Creeks dry to nothingTears are naught.Books without pagesPages with no words.Words without meaningBrains with no thought.Iron is weakNothing is strong.Red rooster callsCalls without sound.Plains are crimsonForests are brown.Rainbows are clearBroken glass is whole.Earth's core is coldSurface is hot.A black albatross fliesLeaves a void in its path.The end.
Stone SoldiersThe plain erupts with fiery callsTheir battle cries the preludeFor funeral laments yet to come.They fight amidst stone statuesOf once great and mighty warriorsIn the halls of forgotten kings.Their hearts are cold and loveless,Both the living and the stone.They fight for long,Swords pierce and rendThrough families as well as flesh.The sides are undefined,All wear well-burnished armor,Lift high newly sharpened swords.A death-fire kindled in their gleaming eyesShows from under knitted brow,hidden by a cold steel helmet,the face of a frienda brothera fathera lovera mana warrior.They fight for many an hour,many a day, many a week.myriad time passesunheeded on the plain,for they fight with all their strength and thought,They fight their lives away.And all that's left after the great warIs a group of soldiers with stone heartsIn that hall of forgotten kingsfor that is all there ever was,And all that will ever be.