Forecast Ii
Storm clouds gather over the sea, omens
Tell of a coming agony
Young lovers stay, O hear me, maidens
Most in marriage long to be free
The world's social order in disarray
Engines faster the extreme of day.
Summer is gone, harvest is come, behold
Earth's buttress battered and tattered
This is the cankering of blemished gold
The sea warms and we are scattered
O children, it's late, O too late to play
The sands on the shore are washing away.
Bring the boats back to the dock, rope them
In vain, the waters rise again
The streets are silent in Jerusalem
Except the cankering chain.
Vacant houses everywhere shall now tell
Time has taken its first step into hell.
Copyright © David Smalling | Year Posted 2010
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