World in Shadow: A Poem

Poetry isn’t my forte, I freely admit it.

But sometimes it’s the only way the words will come out.



This world where money grows on trees

like leaves

where knowledge is the hollow timber

branches, branching, spreading –

not straight but crooked, twisted, limber –

outward, onward, and the bedding

of this forest is the long forgotten

wisdom

of ages past

now trampled underfoot and rotten

slow and strong forsaken

for weak and fast

And in the shade where we now dwell

they tell

of a Sun so strong it lit the world

of warmth that made the green things grow

of light that made the dark uncurl

and flee, but here it is not so –

here is only the everlasting night

of rage

and greed and death

that chokes and clogs, consumes, a blight

upon our frail frames until

we take our final breath.

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