To the west on a small hill


Is a wall that stands there still.


It’s not magical,


Or made with jewels.


It’s old and impractical


Made with outdated blunt tools


The wall’s a statue,


And those far and near


Know the ones who had built it


Had once lived on this blue sphere.


They used to be there


On the world’s pages


But the city was quite square


With no alchemists or mages.


T’was just a city,


A world that stood tall.


But it crumbled, what a pity,

Leaving nothing but the wall.


- Nicole Zamlout