The Doom of Man

From shadows into light mortal standing, life tonight.
What do we mortals hold in our hands?
Power, glory, death and suffering.
From light into shadows, immortal seeming, death tonight.

Rich take from poor and poor take from rich.
Lives are wasted on the false witch.
I see now that our grace has fled. Replaced,
by a blood stained thread.
Lidless eyes watch from the dark, horrors haunt
our hollow dreams. Nightmares that when revealed,
are nought but ourselves.

Into death our race doth fly, wars made for
Riches, for power.
Armies raised and rivals gnawed.
Internal is the death of man. It festers, cancerous
in our hearts of stone.
For the bane of man is man itself.
Neither Xenos, nor beast will dissuade our fury and wrath.
Nature raids but does not conquer.
In weapons of war is our doom now wrought.

But flesh still dwells in that granite organ.
Although imprisoned in its cell of stone,
it beats anew and calls out and cries.
For man has at last found it conscience,
although weak and small. Yet love is
revived once more and spread slowly through
our lands. Throughout this world, on which we
now dwell, the hurts and pains begin to heal, and
all those that wield power should listen now and hear.
Empires can rise in many forms, but none can
last in stone. The true Empire is built within and
not with iron or stone. If an Empire is made with a
caring thought, then it will out last the world that we have burnt.