Vultures perched on the mountain's pass
Fiercely shook their ragged wings, alas
Gazing with hunger, at the brave
Soul waiting to tumble into the grave
My heart burst, scattered into splinters
Turned cold my last forty winters
What fate was mine, what glorious end
To make the mountains tremble and bend
Immortality won by blood and sword
I spread my bloodied wings and soared
Into a paradise that was your arms
Soul mended, and safe from harm
I summoned the light, and my wings glowed
On my final way to my blessed abode
Maxwell O'Reilly
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