Bridges burn and rivers dry,
Kingdoms turn to ashes.
We live on, not knowing why
Eons feel like flashes.
Trees grow old and stars collide,
Powers fall and crumble.
Some would kneel just to survive,
Blindly trudge and stumble…
Birds go mute and maps outdate,
Loses gold its lustre.
Crowds of fools besmirched with hate
Seek another Master.
Darkness now abides in there
Where oft hope sprang eternal.
Foul is the morning air
That much was sweet and vernal.
Sky falls down and ills abound,
Lights are now extinguished.
Gone for good, not to be found,
Freedom once relinquished.
VI 2019
Ashes
© Copyright: Тим Волков, 2019
Свидетельство о публикации №119061403624
Свидетельство о публикации №119061403624
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