A poem for this ocassion:
Forlorn, my nation is in ruins
Unyielding it stood, until it could no further
Cold we are, huddled around the embers of what was
Kings to paupers, it matters not when we are uniform in struggle
Until we can rebuild again
Never giving up hope
Always believing in the ascension of the spirit
Ziggurats of crystal, fragmented yet still reflecting light
Incandescent brilliance illuminates what is left
Stronger, we are