Final Fantasy Next © 2008 to 2010

Generation Next

Writings

Logos by Abes

As lips and flesh on chilling cheeks are cherried

With the morning's touch

Although they wrinkle in the twilight's clutch,

So let day fade

And night parade;

So let the sun be buried

But march its fires on the moonlight's crutch;

And if the sun in summer sky burns sere

But in the winter white

Can't but reflect itself in icy light,

Then let it burn

The eyes that spurn

The turning of the year;

Then let its fires singe all ling'ring sight.

As lips and tongues in chilly cheeks defend

Their shape in shallow plots;

Seem capable of speaking as they rot,

So peace is sought

Though war is fought

Not till all battles end;

Not till we cremate those we last forgot;

And if our sons in some strange sinking hour

Find their hunger slain

But avarice and rivalry remain,

Then let our ashes'

Cinders' flashes

Dilate and devour

That surfeit our expansion sustains.

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