I'm of death's reckoning, flesh
that decays downwards to mere dust
in an age countless, unless sun
will be snuffed out, and be made ash.
And Zothique falls as a strong height
that is worn down and away--wind
and the wan passing of old age.
Printed from: eldritchdark.com/tributes/poetry/12
Printed on: January 6, 2009