I walk through the valley of the shadow of death
And look up to see the great mountains rising over me
Mountains of souls each so high I need to crane my neck to see their crests
Fear mounts all other emotions, and the rod becomes a club
Up and down the path I walk, with evil as the master
And the fires rage
The ash that's thick in the air was once thoughts, stories, lives
Columns of smoke rise, spreading a dark haze, turning the sun orange.
To know that once, words had passed from each dot of ash I inhale
They're meanings once, would have been transferred to others, made them understand
But these have lost all meaning and all screams sound the same
Because silence has taken over, and fires burn and rage.
YOU ARE READING
A Collection of Poems
PoesíaA description can say a lot, and it can say a little; so can a poem. Guess you'll just have to find out what it's gonna say.
