Where will
you sleep
when the
world has fallen
upon the
stony ground
to crack,
to break,
to shatter
on the earth?
When
darkness, the day has won
and
regrets stalk
the
barren, lonely wastes
where,
now, will you reside?
In
Potter’s fields?
Or recline
on couches?
As sleep’s
embrace claims night
will your
spirit
linger
here or walk upon
the waves?
Or tread the rocks
and thorny
expanse?
As
dreamers dream and
mourner’s
weep; as soldier’s tread
the graves
of men
will you
grieve the labor’s lost
Or wait
upon the end?
Too real
the blood,
Too soon
the tears have fled,
Too true
the accusations.
What now
to hope?
What
promise now to cling
in
sleepless hours of that
desperate
day?
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