and the warm clouds pause – feverish,
every soul is stationary- lifeless, at rest
blinkingly awaiting the sound
of the coming apostasy of sorrow.
Our fathers’ victories are forgone
honest pathways are diminished
and even the blazing light ahead
now shines in a vagrant mood.
Wickedness ravishes the heart of men
intransigent mind of hatred and cruelty
the smiles of mortals pause – racing
for the great wail of the coming doom
face are painted black…on vagrant smiles.
Joyous moments long forgotten,
we lament in shameful agony
of the sureness of man’s later end,
in the grave of ‘forever-gone’.
Like flies we gather
and yawn sorrowfully…
for those hatched
by the cold, bloody weather
of unscrupulous death.
I am a member of the WRR editorial team.