The Repository of Retrospection

I see them in the field of the future harvesting the unripe fruits of hope. In unseen graveyards greedy ghosts grope... Nothing is left for posterity to nurture. The beauty of their ashes glows in gloom; I hear the bomb-blast of their past errors. Silence ushered in the threat of terrors, O the peak of pain... the den of doom! Reality rests in the repository of retrospection, shadows zoom in and through the room; and on the floor is a shattered broom... Of sweet dreams swept into detention. Life banks at the shores of untrue reality; the Sun speaks of darkness concealed, and stars sing of light yet to be revealed... Dead heroes eat on the platter of possibility.