Saturday, October 22, 2016


What remains is the first light through the storm clouds,

And a heavy sigh of an old lady with ten sons

Who are nowhere, but a daughter who left her husband.

Plunder, and the world shifts, dried blood in the sands

Are swept around in swirls of remorseful history,

Tales of valour die as fast as they are born,

An instant less than the last life who knew the heroes.

She, he, whatever- the land,

It stands still, a gashed being which heals over time,

For the forests shall grow again, and the mountains shift;

The human tears dried the second they hit the parched earth.

We are transient beings who for all our vanity perish.

The world isn't the one that needs saving-

In our thirst we shall drink each others' blood,

In our hunger, dig the jaws into ourselves.

Our history is for us and our future, beyond,

The books shall rot, and shall lose form,

The web shall tangle itself, gnarled

Listless, powerless, strangle itself.

Humanity- you, I, we-

We are ugly and beautiful-

We shall be gone all too soon,

The mirror shall have none to tell the truth.

The ruins shall have no admirers,

And there will be no mighty lord to beget a son

Who can take you to lands or planets safer-

There's no home for those who doom themselves.

Peace, peace, peace-

For who knows what's there

When no one is there to know.

Peace, peace, peace. 
blog comments powered by Disqus