End of Days
Dawn creeps despondently through the gaps in the ragged curtains. This is not the bright shining sky of enlightenment, but cold dark shadows of a world imploding on entitlement.
A world seeking instant satisfaction
betrays itself with each needy action.
Differing opinions create visceral reaction,
tides of division lead to waves of inaction.
Like-minded souls swarm to their faction.
Lives torn apart by the friendly assassin.
And the man in the shadows hears your lies.
Devoid of soul and imagination,
world today provides no inspiration.
For those living now or next generations,
lives lived out in trepidation.
A day without fear, a mere sensation,
one step away from degradation.
And the man in the shadows sees hope die.
Belligerent voices causing commotion,
as acolytes kneel in devout devotion.
Ruinous plans set spinning in motion,
financial destruction that succours the chosen.
Across many lands and over the oceans,
escaping disaster a fanciful notion.
And the man in the shadows hears souls cry.
Dinosaurs gorge on their fossil solution,
gold in the pocket trumps planet pollution
Turning back to the past, a hopeless regression,
as ritual progress turns to reverse evolution.
A flick of the switch sparks the final regression.
A dystopian world from a nuclear obsession.
And the man in the mirror has sad eyes.
© Fergus Martin
Feb 2018