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Gray and black, save for the snow

Sky behind a veil

Of a haze of dust, of radiation

Empty towers glare

Rising from the snow the dead city looms

Haunted by the spectres of the long deceased

The wind bites down sharp as a blade

Movement ahead

Spectres and ghosts; the dead are not dead

Voices he hears

Striding through snow and into the earth

The world above burns and below it breathes

Unseen voices speak and unseen figures lurk

Haunting his path, observant

A brew to save the life of someone on the cusp

Of the dead city’s hold

He has arrived! He has arrived!

The dead city looms, the dead city writhes

Abandoned and forgot, only ghosts remain

The living long consumed, the sun is no more

Tunnels of the earth will lead him on his way

Paved with the bodies of the starved and betrayed

The figures see his steps, his every single move

From the storm they reside counting his breaths

The past cries out in shrieking tones

Demanding that it will not be forgot

Its voices cry—a chorus of the burned

Those lost in war, eternally here

The sky still gray but the moon revealed

A pearl in the sky—so luminous!

The mask is shattered—each breath a flame

Clawing his way from the dead city’s grasp

The rattle of the train awakens him

The sun in the sky, the warmth on his face

Looming structure gone, the figures long depart

Bright eyes greet him

They have arrived! They have arrived!

From snow and dust and fire they have survived

Loved ones at his side, her hand wrapped in his own

Deep breaths reassure, that this is their home

From the ashes of the war, from hell long endured

From tunnels in the earth, and an exodus home

Sons and daughters held on shoulders high

Deep breaths reassure a new life