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Thursday, November 22, 2007

Ticking Conscience

Death is divine.
Everywhere abounds its spectral presence.
To doomsday, mankind is hurled.
Racing along to collective paralysis;
of mind, matter and soul.
Youth; de-sensitized to the gift of life,
awake to the demons of war.
Lets rivers of blood overflow.
Loathes any voice of sanity
that seek to dam(n) it
But like the furies of nature;
I shall plant the seeds of endurance and
nurture any hope of salvation.
Else, birth ends in exalted annhilation.

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