Spin sun,
spin around the moon
and light up the fireflies
that herald the end of june.
Dance little world,
dance in blissful agony
because there's no peace anywhere,
no semblance of harmony.
Descend haughty gods,
descend to this mortal land
and see what has been done
by man's cuel hand.
Fly sweet Gaya,
fly to a place
that will offer you asylum
in the face of disgrage.
Live cold humans,
live and make merry
for soon there will be naught
at the end of your hurry.
Strike out pale moon,
strike out and make cold
with the fingers of peace
the raging heart of the human soul.
2 comments:
Wonderful poem! An extremely effective wake up call. What does 'Gaya' refer to? The city? Am a little hazy on that paragraph, and I really like having my contexts clear. So the question =) Take care! <3 bleeee
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