The Ancient Krun Poem by Wesley Mincin

The Ancient Krun

Etched in granite is the past,
of legendary wars.
Races whom had such potential,
are preserved within these lores.

Winds remember Armageddon,
sweeping cross the land.
Golden Ages standing tall,
are touched by Death's hand.

It slams down on the dynasties,
stricken sick with fault.
And then, what's left are dimly echoes
Nature wins by default

Carved into the cliff walls,
is the history of Krun.
A foreign species like the humans
People of the Sun

No chorus lives to sing the legends,
scripted by the past.
Mountains, seas, and silent breeze,
remain to be the last.

I wonder if beyond the stars,
man-kind will follow suit.
The growing voice that swallows Earth,
will eventually fall mute.

Less they find the Krun cliffside,
and grasp reality.
Otherwise their fate is sealed,
extinction....destiny.