There is a vision

You ought to fear,

And if you scoff now

You will cower in the hour to come.

Minds pierced lay shatteed on the floor

It is beyond their desire

To mend.

In the distance the heavens quake

Thunderous complacency gives way

To trembling dread,

As they realize

They are trapped.

Across a grey plain,

I spy the gleam of sickly gold

That has rotted to shreds.

The battle has not begun,

Yet already they scream,

Bloody before the wound,

Stark anticipation.