his mighty words
echo through aeons,
it's powerful aura
enough to topple Gods, decimate cities and bring civilisation to its knees.
past our existence,
beyond our extinction,
long after our bones are ground into dust
and our planet consumed by a growing star
and any trace of our lives ejected into the cosmos
as star dust,
his words still shift through the darkness,
a quiet, unknowable echo,
distant and vague, seemingly lost to time,
till once again found and thus the cycle,
the cyclical horror,
continues.
it's power undiminished, unnerved, constant,
it won't be stopped, not by anything,
not by people, or time or the great giants of the universe,
not by anything will its power corrupt and fall,
it will echo through space and time
in its constant, everlasting cycle,
the echo forever ravaging.

© stele