The Pilgrims of Shadow

A lament on mankind's pessimism

The rising sun shall sights receive
As million smiles, each bright as day
And yet, not one shall bring reprieve
To the ones that sit and silence pray

To them the twinkle of tooth and eye
And that fleeting fill of open hearts
That curve of lip, that eyebrow high
Shall bring a hope that swift departs

Pilgrims all, they sleep in verdant shadow
Wile willing the vital will of the wise
The sun they warm, its worth they know
While waiting, whispering, for its demise

To death, and night’s syrupy inception
These wrinkled minds will rise to fall
At last maintaining His will be done
For in Adam’s sin, sinned we all.