The race is almost over.
There are no more wolves
To each other.
No more snakes to feast
On their young.
No more anything.
The race is almost over.
There are no more vultures
To gorge on carrion.
No more eagles
To taunt the skies.
No more trees
To rule the earth.
No more bees
To subdues the flowers.
A crumbling stone path
Towards Oblivion.
It will be vast.
It will be grand.
And
It will have none of us.
There is no plan.
There is simply
No more anything.
The race is finally over.
YOU ARE READING
Labyrinth
PuisiPoems I made during quarantine. A poem compilation about eating, sleeping and other things. I don't know what I have created. Read at your own risk.
