We Are But Clay
We are but clay,
Soon to crumble to dust, fade 'way-
After the Cold Hand's call
And the dead bells' knell
We are no more than memories-
In the mind of an amnesic-
Our voices timely lullabies
Our ideas bombs on count-down.
Soon the winds start browling,
And the seas a-raiding
No more singing birds
As nature sinks to sleep-
The somnolence weighs over mankind
The latter, like Jezebel, is but having a make-up.
Behold the mask, behold the impostors!
Humans veiled to conceal scalding faces:
No mourning veils, no remorse
As humans take another shape.
Copyright © Gerald Nforche | Year Posted 2013
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