Amidst the ashes of fertile land,
And angel stands with arms wide,
An stares into this cruel destruction
With a face cold as stone, and
A heart as uncaring as this place.
She has but a single stone wing
Spread out in the air like a fan.
Her face shows the signs of great age,
But no tears ever leave her eyes,
And no cries escape her closed lips.
Her creator is gone, as is everyone.
She is simply the last remnant of
A land that has turned to ash,
Of people who are gone forever,
And live now up in heaven.
The language once spoken here
Has been long forgotten by
Those who dare explore these
Ash covered places. A great deal
Of time has passed since anyone
Has taken a single breath here.
She is the angel of stone without
The ability to fly with one wing.
She is a reminder of remembrance
To a people long since turned to ashes
And forgotten by the grey land.
