like a moth to candle
the summerlands made home
a hollow shell, our utopia
now empty lies his oaken throne
veiled in mist, true revelation
secrets of this blessed realm
through life and death, commiserations
in struggle, valour to overwhelm
each day, another pain
each dawn I die, at dusk we pray
empty dreams in midnight clouds
cloaked in doom, the darkest shroud
sleep the years hind walls of silence
safe in cairns of deepest black
weary of strife, the rancour
strength of conviction, now flowing back
cast in iron our resolutions
the melting mirror would not show
reflections of a weaker side
