The March of Thoughts

In clouts of bellows and dust,

Does time and data begin to rust.

Falling over the heavy world,

Do we descend.

Ashes slashes the rain in plumes of gunpowder.

Cries clamour the sky in grey mists that seep through bones so sore and cold, through misery.

Limbs lopsided in drizzled rain,

Creeks bitter, dried up in bitter distaste.

Cowering figures echo the fallen,

Sundering and marching through the ranks of the dead.

And reap heavy blades,

Nestle like petals upon shrubs of the doomed.

Fear not upon us,

Hands clasped up to the Moon.

This poem was inspired by the thoughts and opinions of a dear friend, talking about war, the Ukranian conflict that is occuring; how it's called the Information War, and thoughts generally on history and political figures. It was such a huge mound of information that was pounded into my brain that felt like needles were scraping in my brain, trying to retain every detail and news. Even though I could have drowned out his words, I was eager to listen and understand every detail, every word he uttered and at the end of it all, my outlet is to write something on all my thoughts that buzz around my brain like an angry hive of bees.

I hope you enjoyed.