Tuesday, December 18, 2007

Reflections On A Dying Age

Dawn brought with it a day beautiful and bright,
It calls me to revel in the light. Ah! Life, what a beautiful sight!
But I know that this is but a curtain, as black clods garner my brow.
I cannot see beauty, lost as I am in thoughts of despair and sorrow.

I know the course of life sometimes runs into troubled waters,
It's just not nice how troubles pile up when it most matters.
But there is no use in talking, the time is far past, now we sit and whine,
And we are to blame, in our world trouble is but too easy to find.

Dusk has set on the old ways, they are dying on cue.
'Tis only natural, times pass calling for the old to make way for the new.
And as the scythe-wielding, black-robed figure lays his bony hand on our shoulder,
I wonder, in the shadows of what comes, do the fires of chaos smoulder?

We are casting off all our life-lines, delibrately, one by one,
The blackness grows deeper, will we ever again live in the sun?
Forget the much desired utopia of philosopher`s ken,
We cannot achieve it, as we are now, given the nature of men.

'Lest we stop and look inside, to try and change ourselves,
We will be neatly stacked in a file, along with other failiures, on the backshelves.
It won't be easy, for us there will be no convenient end-all cure,
The truth is: what must, will endure.

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