When the Dust Settles
The tears fall freely,
caught up in lifes' grip.
The blood-kin drama,
from whose cup we sip.
The free-love sixties,
fell to dis-favor.
With love abanded,
and gold as savior.
The great destruction,
like a lightning burst.
If technology,
proves to be our curse.
For mans' survival,
will find a return.
To the natural,
and moral discern.
Finding the shining,
of simple virtue.
Avoiding the things,
so good they hurt you.
The great revival,
of a mans falling.
With open arms,
the end is calling!
date:4/3/22
Copyright © Meru Groen | Year Posted 2022
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