Black Harvest

Walking through a field of broken dreams
Treading on the shattered fragments of hope
Casting eyes to distant lands
Holding voids in one’s hands

While flowers bloom in other gardens
While sunlight bathes the thriving grass
A desperate search for an end to shadows
Leads to nowhere but black holes, alas

Slowly, silently the Grim Reaper moves
Reaping the souls of what now are dead
Weary of solitude, yet bows to fate
Never treacherous to the path ahead

But does one see! A patch of pink
A scarlet kiss upon the snow
A brazen bloom braving a world of despair
Whence did it come? Where will it go?

The Reaper towers above the rebel
A chaos of thought, a mystery
A vision of a crimson tide
To reap it now or to leave it be?

Would that he had the gift of clairvoyance!
Would that a spark or darkness he could see!
A lonely question remains unanswered:
To reap it now or to leave it be?

2001