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Like Shorthand On A Reporting Pad
The bricks fell down
Seems the burlap frayed from the friction and weight
And, now the clay lies in broken and dusty piles
On a sidewalk, as everybody passes by
Without a twitch of a single eye
The ink in perfect syllables
Devastating news for someone, entertainment for another
A midnight crash, a family dies as a drunkard lives on in a headline
And, where the reason is won’t be found by asking why
Only that love was found in misty, heartbroken eyes
Like a child in war, a soldier cries out
“What are we fighting for?”
Like shorthand on a reporting pad
The news had such little time to sink in
Now, the world is spinning on its side
And, all that was normal has quickly become a broken smile
Just as soon as the food on the table has spoiled
Enter the flies to feast in the spoils
As all that was good hesitatingly recoils
The earth, now split by a deep crevasse
Can’t help but spill its thoughts of secrets long known
Of good and evil and the dust of our skin
The sinew, the bone, the heart within
The closest of enemies, the closest of kin
Like darkness on doorsteps, a man on his bed
Reliving his life, his virtues, his sins
Like breath in the lungs of a newborn baby
Death will conquer, but Hope will live
