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A before and after poem of the world after the apocalypse. |
| What a world we live in Filled with ancient redwoods Void of green and blue And their old craggy kin Populated with solemn stones How they stretch and bend Each and all chipped and withered In the dense morning canopy The scattered bones of a forest What a world we live in Over wrought with human pestilence Depleted of the monsters of a yore Gnawing and festering in their streets Now no more than fabled tales Sickly creatures always greedy for more Whispered to frighten children And each prepared to eat the other A world free of screaming forces What a world we live in Stuffed with music and chatter Deprived of the noise of voices Of vibrantly colored creatures No dreams whispered, no love declared Singing sparrows and regal lions An emptiness of sound, no tears or joy Each one instrument in a symphony All emotion swallowed by the gloom What a world we live in Crammed with unspoken hatred Starved of any beating hearts Each tongue frozen in icy locks The world torn from the dreams of some A dam too heavy and cracking And ripped from the nightmare of others Until when lights hit the ground A world hell bent on moving on |
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