Numbers in Stone


Two numbers in stone masked by man's folly,
Forgotten, unaware of mortals' time.
Their men scream "wait" at Oblivion's touch,
Dark shadows, pale grass, remembers each cry.

Two numbers in stone rip the Fool from his ill-trodden path,
Foul souls fearing pain and lost gold.
Pride has fled its master's mouth,
Cardinal sins begging "mercy" underground.

The Lost trod blindly into a frozen end,
Life's fine song weary, ashen to these rusted men.
In misty tendrils confusion holds the Lost,
They care not for their own cost.

Then, the Good, dancing in the gloom,
Knowing peace awaits from the vagrant two.
Their eyes are blue staring Death's Door,
So sure of life and the moon's morgue.

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