There were birds in an autumn sky, before the men came from on high. And laid low the towers of empire’s bold, their ashes for the setting sun to hold. You lost your love, among the burning grain. She called your name. She called out your name. Now you’re lost, with red light in your eyes, you’ve seen so many vile crimes. You’ve thrust yourself upon a spear of black… to mark your grief that she cannot come back. There are so many tragic fates to bear, and bear them all we shall, I fear.
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Hi there! I’m Odin Halvorson, a librarian, independent scholar, film fanatic, fiction author, and tech enthusiast. If you like my work and want to support me, please consider becoming a paid subscriber for as little as $2.50 a month!
