Majestic hands of unspoken depths,
reach out towards the fleeting sun.
You are dead, but can you still dream?
Storm clouds are gathering.
Great megaliths of unknown ages,
monuments of dark anno.
Your glory now exposed,
slimy stones and jagged craft,
rising forward from broken depths.
Only to watch the final sunset.
Reaching tentacles forward,
from your sleeping house beneath the sea.
Bleak as the fleeting day.
Eyes open wide calling forth, to reclaim your kingdom.
Sit upon your great throne, only to sink into the rising tide.
With your rise, we all fall.
If only you were as beautiful as the rays of the setting sun.