To
live in perfection,
But
life moves swiftly,
In
a web of deception.
Surrounded
by chaos,
The
mother of destruction,
Our
moral obligation,
In
the face of catastrophe.
Far
in the East, bombs shatter the night,
Defining
existence with every blast's light,
Low
in the West, wombs cry out in pain,
Undermining
the sense of power's vain.
The
coming age is a reckoning of regret,
Where
terror spares no being, no regret,
When
errors are misread,
Focus
on doing nothing, killing all we hold dear.
We
slope down the valley of shadows,
Where
death and despair reign supreme,
Oh,
the Most High God, hear our plea,
Save
us from the abyss of our own making's sea.
It's
no longer peace, but a hollow cult's sway,
The
horror of the coming age thunders through our DNA,
Our
lives shrouded in darkness, like neonatal night,
As
it thunders through the cells of our genetic light.
All
in all, there's heaven or hell,
Life
will be shaped by the choices we compel,
The
coming age, an era of ruin and strife,
Save
us, oh God, from the abyss of our life.
Ayella John Bosco
Poet
