We stand,
hand in hand,
fates twisting round like
english ivy climbing black iron rails.
Will we remember this moment —
the thrill before the swooshing air,
pounding against our eardrums,
threatens to shatter us?
When our time ends
we will start fresh,
rebirthed from the ashes
of our ancestors.
We will stand tall,
shoulder to shoulder,
soul to soul,
hands limp.
So It Goes 