The Reaping


O Frail society,
burden bearing long,
Destroyed by unseen terrors
which were visible made
in your dying men
as when at an hundred leaves
rustling you behold
the wind dost move
between the tree’s branches,
destruction raced through your cities
and cleaned your limbs for Fall.

The Fall hast fallen,
and ignomy besides;
for from the heights of God
to bitter, lonely Hell
this plague of death has ta’en us,
and I to no one write,
in my unsteady scrawl,
these last remembrances.
Read O birds, O river,
whatever else beside,
the burdened pains of Man.


Listen to my beautiful voice:


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.