The Final

An old poem of mine that I've tweaked very slightly.

Ancient dust upon one pillow;
Still, in the burning sun;
Rest in a farewell meadow;
where cadence is a flailing drum

Like smoke rising to the east
Black and empty in the wind
With our wells running dry in heat
and an apathy that will not mend

And so no ship will float on
these waters that expand
far and silently on
beneath sand where couples stand

Ancient dust; one more idle breath
and what takes us to one final rest

 

That was good

 

That's awesome, Ryo!

 

I can imagine this being part of a rap. I like it

 

Thanks Melis, Pidgeon & Socks! The original is below.

The Final

Ancient dust upon one pillow.
Still, in the burning sun.
Rest in a farewell meadow,
where solitude is less than one.

Like smoke rising to the east.
Black and empty in the wind.
With no wells running deep or least -
an apathy that will not mend.

And so no boat will float on,
these waters that expand,
far and silently on -
beneath sand where couples stand.

Ancient dust; one more idle breath
and what takes us to one final rest, our death