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Champions of Equestria

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KissoftheVoid

Neath burning skies and ashen clouds
The grimace of a world chagrined
The phantoms of the quailing crowds
Still whisper on the hollow wind
A chorus to the counterpoint
Of hooves that beat forward and on
From out another darkless night
And unto one more shrouded dawn
Steady and hard they tread the path
And though each bears a different name
Be it Terror or Hope or Wrath
Each road is trodden just the same
But soon the beat of steps will go
And with them the course that was laid
And stillness will hang soft and low
And silence call to be obeyed
For in this limbo we have made
All things fade, all things fade