Eternal Guardians
Reflection
Beneath the weight of time, they stand,
Silent sentinels in crimson flame.
Their gaze, a mirror of the soul,
Reflecting truths we dare not name.
Red robes whisper tales of old,
Of power, of duty, of the soul.
Each figure, a beacon of resolve,
A testament to strength untold.
The stone behind them, cold and gray,
A canvas of the ages' sway.
Yet their presence, bold and true,
Breaks the silence, makes it new.
Are they guardians of the past?
Or guides to the future's vast?
Their stillness speaks of timeless grace,
A call to rise, a call to face.
In their eyes, we see ourselves,
Our dreams, our fears, our restless shelves.
They beckon us to stand, to rise,
To claim the mantle of the wise.
Eternal Guardians, they remain,
A bridge between the past and pain.
Their presence, a reminder, a spark,
To light the path, to break the dark.