Page 39 - New Year's cards

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Who finds among the coastal ruins scanned
In search of ancient kings—those madmen blamed
For scourging Gaia on a scale so grand
She foundered flayed, ten millennia maimed—
A barely visible knuckle of land
The sick and swollen sea had not yet claimed,
Will just descry an old fort's jagged base
And fragments scattered as by force thrown down:
A warrior queen now but half a face,
Her brazen brow beneath a spiky crown,
One fist death-grips a severed sword's cracked hilt.
The seeker then has found the god at fault,
And hears unspoken mocking words of guilt:
“I conquered all for gold to fill my vault.”