My shadow walks on stilts.
She is a statue of grace.
Stoic towers form alters for the thigh masters.
I am a statue of grace.
They built a Parthenon in my name.
Glory they called the shadow.
She is a warrior of grace.
Statuesque in my name.
Glory they called me.
For I am she. A goddess of depression and strength.
My shadow walks on stilts.
Leaning forward to greet her subjects
Stoic in praise.
Embracing night breeze quartets in honor
Of her name.
She is a tower.
Lean with a force of rage.
I walk alone in a path of valley darkness.
Alone with my shadow
Graced among the ashes of my disciples.
My will has broken loose of mine eyes
As my battles subside.
To stand is a virtue.
To stumble is to falter is to sin.
So they called me glory be.
My name is sung from the shadows among the trees.