Kingdom

Who is immortal?
Or could stand strong,
against the roaring tide,
as it hammers against
the chill, grey rock?
As kingdoms mourn -
they lay scattered and scorched
on the orange roast,
brazen ground.

And we crowd you, surround you,
shedding with your violet blue
ever flowing tears,
And hear you, and love you,
that bell ringing song day,
when she finally passed
away.

Just then -
a small, small voice
of reasons above - 
and grief and love - 
the still, still voice
saying 'I know the plans.
Fear not, my son.'

Who is immortal?

This Kingdom cries.