Land of eternal down

Where the sun forever lingers at the lip of night, And the world is washed in copper, gold, and amber light, Walks the Herald of the Twilight, stepping soft and slow, Through the Land of Eternal Dawn—where shadows never grow.

With a horn of polished silver and a cloak of autumn mist, He treads upon the borders that the morning sun has kissed. No noon will ever blind them, no midnight will descend, For he guards the sacred threshold where the hours never end.

"Awake, oh sleepy hollows," his quiet anthem rings, As dew drops turn to jewels on a thousand waking wings. "The day is always breaking, the dark is held at bay, Stand frozen in the beauty of the first and final ray."

He is the quiet keeper of the promise in the skies, With the youth of early morning reflecting in his eyes. A traveler of the edges, where the sun forgets to set, In a world of constant waking, that has never slept as yet.