Dusty Path

All roads lead to that dusty path
Sleeping deep below
Or fed as ashes to the bitter wind
Swept up or buried
All the little dreams
Dissolve in the cruel
Implacability of time

The earth heaves its weary skin
Revolutions are pin pricks
On her ancient shoulders
Kings raise insignificant fists
Shouting of rights given
From gods long gone
Battling like children’s toys
Fretful puppets
Loud and irrelevant
In the wheel of time

There is no matter here
If we fall to slavery and abuse
The greater course of history
Is indifferent
And our little blood soaked lives
But a blink
Of eyes too old to weep

(c) Helen Valentina 2016

About Helen

I'm drawn to blogging as a way to share ideas and consider what makes us who we are. Whether it's in our working life or our creativity, expression is a means to connect.
This entry was posted in Air, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

5 Responses to Dusty Path

  1. philipparees says:

    LIked this a lot, if ‘liked’ is appropriate for ‘eyes too old to weep’. Moving.

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