When your nights light up over vast distances
And the days of the many be cut short,
Shall they then prevail,
Those broken gods of war,
To burn again to cinder the work of ages?
Trouble enough there has been.
Trouble further we have seen.
Here, at the end of days,
We stand by the edge of ruin.
Still, my father tells me,
The universe is vast beyond imagining.
