Floodwaters

the world is dying,

I am dying,

death has become an only friend,

the final sanctuary,

in a life no longer

worth living;

each day begins anew,

each day ends,

the breeze continues to blow,

the rivers continue to flow,

the morning sun arrives

right on time;

for every season there is a purpose,

for every question there is an answer;

I see the ugliness lying

just below the surface,

the self-serving hypocrisy,

the incomplete falsehoods,

the insincere agendas,

they do not fool me;

not even for a moment;

the time begins at last,

the hour is at hand,

the children of men are no more,

their monuments of glory

crumble before the wind,

the bitter taste of their demise

lies frozen upon a sea

of silent tongues;

this then is the beginning,

this then is the end;

still they do not listen,

even now their eyes remain blind,

giving in marriage and celebrating

right up to the very end;

surely there is no hope

for ones such as these.

.

.