The Foretold Poem by Raven Syke

Black stone beneath sore feet
Journey's end, at last we meet
Taunting walk in anguished eyes
Starlight hue, in midnight skies

Night is young, and ancients old
Hear the story, of which foretold
Burning mist of dawns cold flame
Beseech the world of new age fame

Yet old world's charm linger near
So cold to touch, of what i fear
Linger softly, o kiss of death
Eyes asleep with morning breath

Jaded eyes burn with lighted glow
Skin as pale as brightest snow
What once it was and was it once
Arise the new, and in abundance