Slipping into sepia tones
As rods are slowly replaced with cones
blindness causing mindless fascination with the unknown
I stand astride a great colossus
Across a shore no one can top this
Breath of greatness which with birds could have flown
And so i stand amidst the land
With ancient scrolls held in my hands
And keep my feelings far from their mental home
And dictate orders with dying breath
As each command keeps strength in check
And yet i become slowly entombed in this poem
Sorry but i'm a bit drunk so this is what i could come up with.
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