Beautiful words.
A billow of darkness
hangs silent over the land
Haunted by the memory of
our long lost paradise.
Too tired dreams flow down
swift rolling waters,
forever in chase of a world
that’s departed.
We’ve used our forces
and shown our might,
Acting on empty screens
with eyes stoic and vacant,
We now have to admit,
we have had enough
The march of tears from
hollow eyes has begun.
Our towering psyches
have scourged us to the depths,
We have bled in private and public
from both sides of our soul,
The mad-mad motion of this world
Has left us searching for lost hope
On an unknown and distant shore.
© DiAnne Ebejer
West Coast Review 