Figures standing still,
crack, decay, crumble –
under the weight of endless time.
Frozen on a winding road
bereft of life, laughter and love
with the Dark ever creeping.
A colourless, speckled visage,
marred by a sullen silhouette
asphyxiated by forlorn hope.
I sweep myself across a barren, vast ocean floor.
I sweep myself above cold, watery grass.
I sweep myself through charred, scorched fields.
Waiting without end.
Truth is – regeneration never comes.
I must sweep on
until Death itself awaits me –
moaning at my doorstep.
Time will come to pass
and Legend will forever remember
one who swept –
while he silently wept.