here, at the end of all things

(Eyjafjallajokull throws up more black smoke against the amazing backdrop of Northern Lights)

Unsurprisingly – because volcanoes always remind me of Mordor (insert hashtag nerd here?)- this bit of text sprang to mind from the fathoms of my memory:

All that is gold does not glitter,
not all those who wander are lost;
the old that is strong does not wither,
deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken, a light from the shadows shall spring;
renewed shall be blade that was broken, the crownless again shall be king.

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