look upon the lonely dead
in their world of stone
each one of them is so well read
but all of them alone
our path with cuts and weary worn
meanders toward the sun
through battled lives gracefully torn
pity spilled becomes undone
as if we marched toward a prize
each step upon the late
still anticipating with surprise
our destination’s fate
and as we gape upon the void
having reached the close of days
we cannot grasp the now destroyed
through complacency malaise
© HeyHey 2020
