The Last Outpost

When the last of the wood had been washed awayThe Last Outpost and the marble arches had shattered from the cross-fire, after the iron had burned in the wind, the asphalt melted and the glass exploded into a rain of millions of reflecting shards, there it still stood.

The stone and the clay. The vigilant and the stead-fast. Guarding against what was and will be.

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