Cry of the Old Ones

The temples of the old gods crumbled
As the wind whistled through the great stones

Dust swept over the altars
Stained by wine and blood

The winter shaded eyes
Of the tall magician wept unashamed
In the shadows of the aeons

Fast was he fading
For he was the last of his kind

His peoples beliefs
Were the last sacrifice put to the altar

Civilization had intruded
Putting an end to the old world.

August 24, 1989