But when the springtime turns to dust
(A thousand shades of blood and rust)
And everything is ash and stone
(Contagion writ in blood and bone)
Then what exists to have and hold?
(What story, then, has not been told?)
Let this be my sacred vow
(O Mother Mary hear me now):
I will not fail, I will not fall
(Though Heaven, Hell and Chaos call).
We are the children of the Risen.
This world our home, this prayer our prison.

Autore: Mira Grant