The edge of the water is near
A lake of tears shimmers in the air,
Stretching unending, over the horizon.
The curved lens of a mirror, as an eye reflecting the heavens,
Dark depths of emptiness; if not heat and light of the sun.
Vast and sentient, a spirit of presence, Suspended in the folded mantle,
The broken shell of past turmoil,
Molten welds, the whole held in fragile peace,
A jealous Kingdom torn and taken to war for belief.