Regrettable Hour; The World in Shambles

Created in the past,

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