This World

This world, this wounded earth,

Is cleaved so deep, it weeps blood tears.

It is percussed, forgotten, cursed,

Poisoned and pierced by all man's fears.

This world reacts, in ways it knows,

With tremors and menacing skies.

Phantasmal gardens, darkened corners,

Replete with anguished cries.

The voice of the Creator's storms,

Is thunder that will rise.

There are crucified angels, somewhere in the night,

That beg for lullabies.

Kindness is a weakness now,

For there are swords in hand.

The cup that once held water,

Now is poured into the sand.

Lamps are burning, someone's home,

But courage is no more,

It's now the way of the wounded earth,

To stay behind closed doors.