A Lament to the Passing of the Ages

- Sinthor
The twilight deepens, a troubled wind stirs,
Omens of a time of change, diminishing grace.
For all is changing, an age comes to an end.
Who will replace, the light that is fading?
Who will take the mantel, of grace and wisdom enduring?

The darkness is shattered, the end result of daring hopes,
Shadow breaks asunder, fleeing to dark corners, upon itself to gnaw,
While hearts and hopes rise, celebrating the fulfillment of every desire.
From Numenor reborn, a fledgling light burns brighter,
Seeking to replace the twilight with a new dawns kindling.

Yet emptiness follows as those eldest depart wearily, never to return.
Yea, even with the light’s return, a sadness grows and mounts.
For those eldest have taken that most dear with them into the West.
A grace and beauty, never to be seen again until the world’s mending,
The music of their song, fading year by year into the new spring air.
Leaving those behind them only fading memories of what was,
A cherished echo of fallen glory, of beauty incomparable, ever young.