Of all the glory and all the land
of all the riddles sewn in sand
of all the tempests,
blood and fire
take not the night, you crimson liar

For all that's bright can never glow
if not for death; the darkened pyre
who holds the candle and the flame
in perfect contrast none the bane

If choice was mine and mine alone
then still I’d write the etch in stone
the symbols wrought in spider’s throne
his empty kingdom made of bones

I once was that, the monkey’s hand,
the silver thread,
the spokeless band
now I can rest in timeless sands