The world was fair and time was young, breath was pure and tomorrow was sure. No crown nor throne, no scorn nor thorn. The land was green, and full of wild, the sea blue with shades of green, and deep it was with myth within. The land was young, when life was born, when creations breath was drawn and Man was formed.
In the valley the beasts were tame, in the seas the myths were same, and life was in hoard, named and unnamed. Love was true, and rebellion was not, creation and creator were one. The land was fair, for death was rare and life was fair and clear.
Beneath the moon music woke, merry and wine around torches of flame men spoke. Fangs and claws ignored, while the night slept and snored. No war nor blood, no spear nor sword, treachery and false was not, for evil was without form.
Under the mountains gold layed unseen, beneath the earth treasures hid unsought, and in the sea pearls unthought were unfound. The land was fair in elder days before the fall, when hearts were true and bright as blue, and peace abound and greed was drowned, as life was clear and fair.
The echoes of woe, of vile and pride decended. Creations foe, of vice and spikes intended. Taking form to roam the earth, forked tongue to sway the heart. Bringing thorn and war, to scourge and damn he swore.
The world is grey, and time is swayed with crowns and thrones and scorn and thorns. The land is brown and bled, and the wild has frowned and fled. The sea is plundered and angered, and myth is watchful and wrathful, and creation and creator are apart never to be one, only hopeful.
Chaos is born and a shadow lies upon creation, far no longer but ever within. The darkness dwells in mens hearts, bodies ruled like stacks, unsure of right or wrong, and therein it lies within echoing as a song. The land is grey and death has stayed, for greed is born and peace is torn, as life tears and wears until again the creator comes.