they sat like iron giants

they sat like iron giants in a stolen elysian field,
plucking golden threads that weren't tuned,
and singing verses that had yet to be written.

they didn't build the walls that they sat on,
but they found themselves in the backdrop

as revolutionaries fought in countless battles
and stained their hands with causes not worth fighting for,
as those very walls crumbled beneath them

and left them amongst the rubble and broken chords
that fallen angels had only been known to sing on battlefields.

they weren't meant for open grasslands,
but they went anyhow, and rewrote history themselves
by pulling tufts of grass loose with their calloused fingers
and rearranged leaflets in patterns to mirror the stars
in hopes they could mimic the heavens.