As groping eyes creeped across the plain
Lit in a pale orange glow
The splinters of light illuminate the ground
Shining on everything that could grow
The sun set laying a foundation dark
A pale specter could be seen
Awoken from slumber of an ancient day
One thousand more follow, into the fray
The distant sound of war is waged
A twilight breeze carries an age
Of long forgotten sons of war
And memories lost forever more
A creeping horde of ceaved and dead
With banners high of hope or dread
The luminous form of thousand strong
A lingering reminder, never gone
What was, now gone
The walking dead amongst the fog

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