A Lament for the Unremembered
Where Is The Cry That Split The Firmament,
The Roar That Shook The Mountain Roots?
Where Is The One Who Birthed Time In A Breath,
And The One Who Folded Space Into A Cradle?
Gone Like Morning From The Mouths Of The Dead.
Gone Like Prayers Spoken Backwards.
I Remember Their Footfalls In Thunder.
I Remember Their Names Carved In Snow,
Sung In Leaves, Etched In The Tremble Of Rivers.
No Wind Carries Their Names.
No Shrine Holds Their Shape.
The Flame-Lions That Guarded The Dusk: Ash.
The Storm-Birds Of First Rain: Unwinged.
The Islands Cry Out, But The Tapu Do Not Come.
Even Mew, Mother Of All Songs,
Has Left No Echo In The Stone.
Even Celebi's Garden Blooms Without Time.
Even Gods Forget How To Come Home.
Oh Dialga, Your Clocks Have Stopped.
Oh Palkia, Your Paths Lead Nowhere.
The World Turns, But The Axle Groans.
There Is No Center Now. No Anchor.
Because We Did Not Notice
When They Stopped Singing.
Who Mourns For The Sacred
When The Sacred Are The Ones Who Weep?
When We Are The Ones Who Forgot?
When The Choir Has Been Unwritten?
Sing Low, O Sky. Sing Low.
The Gods Are Gone, And They Did Not Rise.