Ashes fall from a lava spring
around a city of white marble and ivy.
The sea blows snow crested wind
out of the way to make room for a grey bath,
like the robe of King Solomon falling to the ground
as wisdom buckles at the knee.
More like Caesar with knives in his throat,
blocking his will from making him immortal
once again.
This race of warriors gaze upon a broken man
covered in ashes and wreaths.
How sad to see the giants slain by a rock
when the sword was mere moments away.
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