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