Silent breeze the city dwell,
Whisper ghosts a guest it meld.
By barren life of empty halls,
To dead-end cries of children calls.
This blossom life of flower gem,
Former warmth now pull from stem.
A stone of grave for restless souls,
A prize to bait in foolish goals.
And what they seek beneath the ruin,
Born unknown to the depth of boon?
Sacred deeds, noble worth or gain,
Or daggers back and wicked fame?
In end of ends, the tales we weave,
That carry a page of adventurer’s deed.
Speak in turn to those that dare,
Where one then rise for rest to stare.
On ocean rock to forget the dirt…
Vanish…vanish…by the blood of worth.
Art: Vanished by eWKn