Remiss Of Chance

 Days of days

Remiss of chance

Prolonged quandary

Within sullen glance

Time evaporates now into silent space

Blurring vistas of memory without a trace.

Nothing is nothing on this invisible plain

For substance is lost in desirous gain.

Driven by greed,

Oblivious to need

Soldiers of fortune

Mount deaths black steed.

For dark angels gather in force,

Shadows cast on misery's shore.

Sorrows dance unto this black trepidation

Leaving a sickness of soul to a silent nation.

Children cry openly now into the putrid night,

As brothers, sisters and lost mothers fade from sight.

Carrions of injustice dance vainly in open mass

As a clawing and gnashing consumes the spirit

of those parlaying deaths chilling task.

Leaders in pretense rise upon every stone

Whilst the dark angels hell

hover over the city already picked to the bone.

Messengers of edict herald the events of the day,

They cry aloud for the dying

They weep openly for life this way.

For it is the days of our days

In which we are remiss of chance

J. Allen Wilson © 2005

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