DYSTOPIAN Poem: At the End of the World – Aberaeron, Late March By N. E. Rodgers

Here gaze we on this light a-dying,
An exposure of a world in lying;
Though each we stand with eyes defying,
We think – “not us.”

We are not now what once we were,
Despite all that they did allure,
Hold fast, cling there to Terra’s burr,
And scream – “not us.”

Much abides, they say, but only at dusk;
Abide not, cry I, take all we clutch,
Flail in the ash and thrash in the dust,
We choke – “not us.”

Still we stand, our conscience flying,
Naught are we but time a-buying.
Find those who look upon the dying,
And say – “not them.”

Author: poetryfest

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