From The Hallows Poem by Ofentse Mercy Hajane

From the very eager and wet of days'
There have been songs.
Played right by the gods who have seized to exist,
But exist only as mortals.
Of those years washed up in gold are no more,
So saw fit by time.
Like all that was,
Is,
And is to come,
Have failed to grasp the power of alpha and omega,
All of them ashen as the land they dwell on.
Lost on the forever parody of the growing universe,
With neither a highlighted line of a beginning,
Nor an end.
Where light is but a servant to its mighty king...
The darkness.
Where the abundance of life,
Sends paradoxes to the scarcity of life.
With one leap,
Men could never tell tales to creature afar.
Though he wishes to,
But his voice falls dead in the midst of space.