Strong legs with feet so fragile

A mixture of iron with the clay

A dichotomy of destiny trembles

As they fragment in midst of the fray

Desired head of gold always lofty

Dripping with fire branding pride

Now hangs in the balance top heavy

Where thoughts of such grandeur did ride

Silver curtains now dangled and twisted

From hooks upon shoulders of time

Once joined they now are divided

Left and right tore them out from each side

A brass ring of judgment is stationed

Place around the middle so broad

The carved out cisterns are bellowing

Self made this pseudo image a fraud

Broken dreams and visions now sprawling

Upon ashes this weak idol shards

Mere forms of vain dusty creatures

Yoked only by some lifeless bard

Bow not when these metals are humming

You mustn’t yield nor fall pray to their shine

The Rock has the first word and last judgment

To bring underfoot these maligned

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