Where lies the beating heart? The blood which flowed
Is nought but dust within these ghostly veins
Now shadows creep across the walls and roads
Meandering through the last of what remains
Would that the words spok’n here could have endured
These susurrations never came to be
The whispers from the walls Time had immured
Nor echoes from the wind across the trees
This crumbled ruin, polished into dust
Is tenured hence, for here the stones begin
The silent tomes, that in their telling must
Defile the ghosts whose truth was hid within
As wings now palpitate through dark and light
The beating heart is lost within their flight
