MrZackAttack

Long ago, they built it It stands, reaching, into the sky Stretching upward, endlessly high It served them as an idol As a temple, as a shrine It is all they left behind They thought that it would save them At that it failed In their agony, they wailed Alone, they fell and were lost Their minds were burning And fate was turning And what they had built faded slowly Save their idol, temple, shrine It is all they left behind And still it reaches into the sky Branding the present with the past The first and the last Forever.

O Númenor! Your golden shores did awe who gazed upon the splendor of your mountains beneath the setting sun. Your men were noble, proud and strong the Kings of Westernesse! The old Edain, arisen of Húrin and the rest. Yet it is said that that they grew vain and lusted for the west and yet the ban of Valinor they greatly feared to test. And while they pondered long their course away in Mordor dark Sauron declared his power and Númenor did hark! Ar-Pharazôn, the king of men dethroned the evil great and bore him back to Westernesse where Sauron wrought their fate! He led them down such evil paths that Ele

 It is late in the day, a chilly winter afternoon. The sun slides towards the horizon, its feeble rays of light glancing off of the hills. The bare branches of thousands of oaks and maples tremble in the breeze as sunset draws near. An owl, wakened early, flies silently amid the boughs. A streak of dirty asphalt, chipped and cracked, mars the peaceful landscape. Upon this surface, cars drive through each day. The drivers never stop to admire the view of the sea–they are far too focused on their destinations. There is nothing of interest here, really. Can you see all of this? Focus. Imagine. See it in your mind's eye. There is a hill,