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Poem

I crossed a bridge of marble stone,
Clutching the rails with hands of bone.

Below flowed a river of flawless glass,
Into the life from which I'd passed.

I gazed within and my heart felt tight,
As the world I saw simply was not right.

Time was still and gaunt as death,
As if every soul had held their breath.

And though I searched each for smile or laugh,
There was not a one unto the last.

And then I felt tears stream down my face,
As the scenes below began to change.

Colors of orange and hues of red,
Fire engulfing the living and dead.

Sob and scream filled the air,
As I stood watching from way up there.

I could not fathom for what cause,
But in those moments I did take pause.

And when again I cast my eyes downward,
There was no fire like I thought there would.

Man and woman walked down each street,
Children trailing at their feet.

But still within my head I heard,
The screaming of a dying world.

And so I realized as I watched on,
Fire had not been the cause.

Children huddled and cried alone,
Soldiers fought but would never come home.

Man waged wars and greed consumed,
The little goods all but doomed.

So I guess I realized within that dream,
Life isn't what people make it seem.

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