The end is growing nearer but
is it the end you expect?
Of this, of life, of an era
and all you ever knew to be real?
A hope, perhaps? Or your unflinching belief
in our immortality.
That nothing can touch us.
Have you not yet realised
I am made of gold?
It seems to remain a thing
you cannot comprehend.
For your hair will fall before your eyes and
be not unlike a veil,
not unlike a curtain
with which you will obscure all
He knows to be Good.
As the darkness continues to shroud the world
do what you know to be right,
at this pivotal moment
this is the time to act.
His reign will continue, kept alive
by acts of groups of lovers
from across the lights. And you will hear
her cry across the rivers:
"Say what you feel, I love you. Goodbye."
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