They breathed in the still light


    of a quiet dawn


    emerging from


    the storm-tossed seas


    beneath the retreating darkness,


    Their wounds a telling


    and retelling of victories


    and deep and bitter loss.


    Yesterday is a lie,


    the past a deceiver,


    twisted by memories,


    then stretched out


    into a grey fog,


    betraying truth


    with the advance of time.


    But something gleamed hard


    in those eyes -


    those gnawed and harrowed arches,


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    that vanishing, flame-eaten span,


    the pain that did not vanish


    with the night.


    They know this sea,


    the dying place,


    the verge of new beginnings


    the phoenix shore,


    the resurrection strand,


    The eastern sea


    where yesterday dies


    and tomorrow is born.


    The past was slain


    with the sunrise,


    blood red


    spilling across the sky


    ere it is scorched


    by the golden dawn.


    They linger awhile,


    looking out over the


    restless waves,


    the ebb and flow of fate,


    seeing, perhaps, their sins


    being burned away


    by the rising sun.


    They will come back here


    one day,


    beneath another dawn,


    to fall in silence


    unknown,


    and perhaps unmourned,


    yet glorious,


    to be purified


    by morning''s light


    once more,


    and die in peace


    on that quiet shore


    of an ocean


    they refused to name