Empty scabbards
and
broken swords
carelessly tossed
before the
empty throne
Dead torches hang on dampened walls
lighting
Death’s way in perfect
darkness
Distant thunder,
softly rumbling, makes
gentle inquiries,
whispering names of
souls long
vanquished.
All is
ended.
All is
lost.
Behold the throne
of
Armageddon
who no longer
reigns
© Alfred W. Smith Jr.
