The Titan's Spine

The Titan’s Spine (The City of Oros)

Upon the granite ribs of one who fell,

A city clings like moss to ancient bone;

The market-squares are carved into the shell,

Of someone who once walked the world alone.

The waterfalls are tears that never dry,

Descending from a hollow, mountain eye;

Where banners of a thousand houses fly,

Against the purple of a bruised sky.

The streets are narrow as a giant’s vein,

And pulse with life that does not know the host;

Ignoring all the sorrow and the pain,

Of he who gave the world the very most.

The titan sleeps beneath the heavy weight,

A silent foundation for a mortal state.