Beneath decrepit realms and turf,
The sickly, and the fair.
Above, waves of sound entranced
And what trembles through their air.
Marred, a desperate fulcrum,
The verse their hearts decide.
Armor and shield - its night pled-bright,
Its sorrow that will remind.
All that ever is upon
And all that ever truly was,
Of all things ever meant to be;
I, am the one.