There was an aeon when humanity
had good times and bad times, coming
and going, long and short cycles
turning; you had every expectation
the good times would return, if not
for you, then at some point; deep trust
in the promise of a returning Silver Age,
and one could even paint dreams of
a Golden Age somewhere beyond
the farthest hill at dawn, and believe
that all that would come to ruin would
be but a layer in an ever-growing mound
of civilization. Now, there are bad times
and there are even worse times, and as far
as the mind can reach to the horizon,
more bad times and worse times to
come. We brought down the wrong
order, we allow the worst to rule
over us, and before our doom we
stand like the wife turned to salt
even when the doomed hives
of humanity still cast their lights
in the deepening dark.
01.04.2024
#Poem #Poems #Poetry #Verse
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