Still warm these ashes that rise,
Smoldering still in the aftermath,
Of the moment that is and was,
Unseen is the world around,
Unheard is every cry and every sound,
Ominous and deafening sounds near ,
Shallow and deep breaths reappear,
Clouds of fear and screams,
Waft and dance above,
Like an orgy of blood and tears.
Is this a fight or is it a feast,
Is it a victory or is it retreat,
Is there a winner or is everyone lost,
Is there anyone who isn't a walking corpse...
Still warm these ashes that rise,
Still blue the sky that once was,
Veiled is now in melancholic white.
Wandering amidst the rubble,
These lost and dazed faces,
Caked in gray masks of inexistence...
(inspired by the Syrian crisis)
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