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Poem

The Great curse has befallen upon our land
And even the tiniest of creatures are bedazzled
As we are struck down by this nemesis
Dark clouds have appeared in everyones' minds

It is of no solace to be reminiscent of better days
Alone, shut off off the rest of the world
We count the dead and the days
As the days become dead as each one brings new death
Not even time to mourn, but with all the time in the world
In the darkest of days we count Sun's rays
Hopefull that soon there will be no more counting

It is a passing thing
Dry twig snapping under sheer pressure of time
Passing days shall bring forth passing of plays
Dark clouds shall once again be torn apart by strong winds
Dark thoughts shall once again be torn apart by strong wills
Grassy meadows shall once again be ever so green
Shining brightly showered by the pure gold of the great Sun
Waters will wash away the horrors 
And the unison of all humankind will be painted on everyones' smile
May it never wash away again
There is no curse strong enough to whitstand a sincere smile
And an open heart

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