Wrists of Kings

Now our blood

Travels though the

veins of our

history

It bursts forth them

Boiling black

clouds from the wrists of kings

The shadow

Lengthens as

time draws on its tendrils

Creep into mythic cracks

blending with the light of day

We see it

Now Before us

But even so we cannot

Read the lies between the lines

Bring them nothing

They have

Made it's way

The nights