The moaning winds blow
In accordance to the dying
Sun, soon to permeate into the horizon.
Down, down the pine-sheltered mountain
Lies an Aphroditean meadow.
Dancing poppies around Goliath's ancestry
Of woody trunks and branches cover
The heaven-sketched iridescent plain.
Serenity engulfs this remarkable cradle
Of such an innocuous Destroyer.
Unknowing of intensive destruction She brings
Comes this tiny gift of creation,
Fluttering over the humbling reeds.
Woe to the towering works of man adore,
To his love for fabled beings,
To his thoughts so alike King Solomon,
To his olden hands of innumerable deeds,
To the whole of his ill-fated wealth for
In one soft flap of Her bright, yellow wings,
A hundred,
A thousand,
A million, she kills.
-I edited it a few times to come up with this final output.
>>>Dilean Bass
No comments:
Post a Comment