Tuesday, 16 April 2013


So many days, so much poetry!

So does the shadow roll outward on the morning breeze

As the south loses grip and the descent begins in earnest

Slippery fingers with hollow promises tap against harsh wood

With night surpassing day with bloodier news

As another family blackens with the end of the blood

With more and more shadows drawn empty by the dawn

Horrors beyond our walls, beyond our lands

Yet here, for now, it is warm and we embrace light

For what can conflict do to we who reign over it?

We dominate, we rule, it is we who hold power

Clenched fists and blades can not dare think to touch us

We who brush nations away with the gentlest touch

Those of common ilk cannot comprehend us

Their masters

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