Secret whispers fell from the sky

Diluted in the puddles on the empty roads

Dreams rode the waves that crashed upon the shore

They broke apart as they smashed upon the jagged rocks

Ideas burning flesh from bones

Empty hearts filled with charcoal

Hatred breeding the glorious cowards

Now mothers of tomorrow’s generation

An avalanche of darkness covers meadows of delusion

Conquered barren skulls with not a moment’s last breath

Left over gods with no sermons or lectures

No spells, no tales, no disciples, no rōnin

No bee hive, no vessel, no fuselage, no urn

No power exchange, no bound wrists,

no unseen ward, no conversation spoken

No mausoleum, no resurrection,

No temptation, no river birth

Just the black skies

Which now cover this earth

© 2024 David Greg Harth

2024.07.31.17.28.00@130BklynNYC