Shadows Poem by Thomas Ware

Long are the golden wings,
Of ages past,
Long are the ragged edges,
Of shadows cast,
Long are the years that stretch out from deep time,
Long are the remnants held,
Of once great rhyme.
Long are the memories,
Of the broken and the old,
Long are the tales,
Chronicling days of clear gold.
Long do we see cities, stories,
Long gone,
Long are those shadows that stretch ever on and on.
But not infinite, they do end,
Someday,
Legend becomes myth,
Then ghosts, spirits of grey.
Eventually all things cease,
Even the eldest.
Eventually time will stop,
Consigned to hell-mist.