The plantations that were green and rich
With vegetation
Have dried up and been left fallow
The clean clear rivers that once ran deep
Have now become polluted
And shallow
The birds no longer perch and sing here
For this barren land would only echo their loneliness
The air has become toxic and unclean
So the trees are unable to breath
Too weak in their bonyness
The high rocky mountains
That once harboured life
Only serve now as tombs to harbour decease
While the seemingly tormented and abandoned desolate land beneath them
Seems to beckon for release
The vultures gather here no more
For they too would die and wither away
In this deserted place of calm unrest
Nothing can live here, so nothing stays here
Nothing can graze here, so nothing ever comes here for fear of death
For as the season changes
The cold harsh windiness blows its dead into scattered bones
And then
Into nothingness
Then comes the sun again
That once made high stench
Of rotting flesh
Now boldly returning
To claim that which is left
New life will come here to this land
Again and again
And die here
Naive to the nature of its trend
Only few will live long enough to move on
And to see
That this
Is not the end.
© Phoenix James. All rights reserved.