The morning light, and the first light of birth
Are they the inviting arms of a friend
Or the invading arms of Big Bertha
Firing her shells straight at our eyes; the end
Of all resistance. Curtains can’t defend
Against their speed and distance. Like trumpets
That call us on the day of doom, portend
Hell’s darkness falling soon, each sunray hits
The nerves like cannonballs hit walls, and its
Curtains for Fort Utopia, murder
Of innocent and not-so-innocent
The screams ring out as dreams are smashed to bits
And now our plight’s revealed, is it still worth
Our fighting on, or must we surrender?
Thur 5 June 2008
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