In Mirrors old – our Visage hides
The Echoes of – forgotten Worlds,
We Trace and Tremble – at their Might,
So Grandeur makes – us meek as Dust.
The Timeless Bone – of Earth\'s Delight,
With buried Truths – in Time’s Embrace,
We cloak with Veil – and sigh Relief,
For Knowing makes – our Minutes brief.
To Gaze upon – the Infinite,
Diminished by – the Vastness there,
We shrink in Awe – of what we were,
The Hush of Power – breeds silent Prayer.