Poetry – End Times

End Times
by Ruth R. Davidson
 
Hear the angels voices.
Hear the darkened song,
A harsh lullaby of mourning.
My sorrow is for the unseen sun,
The bleeding heart of the man on the moon,
The falling stars
And all that was moved out of its place.

I can barely breathe, the air is dark.
I shrink at the sound
Of the roaring lions,
And I hide from the scorpion’s tail.
I fear the bottomless pit,
And the shape of the locust;
And wormwood bittered the bloody waters.
 
I sorrow over the death
Of two olive trees that live.
The earth is ablaze, the soil reddened
And rich with a foul stench.
Bones are left naked,
And eyes fall to the ground.
The dragon tries to rob me of my life.
 
I cry for all who are lost
And refuse to be found.
I am covered in lamb’s blood.
I hear the sobbings of those silenced,
And the tears of the forgotten child.
I know the pain of a raped earth, and
Feel a need to quell the shadowed works of man.
 
The world burns in shades of red,
Blackened by the thick smoke of the pit.
A thousand eyes see me for what I am.
The clouds fail to bless the earth with rain,
And dark secrets are hidden for all to see.
I fight a continuous battle with the serpent,
Desiring to be a candle of good.

A new song is sung for he who took the book,
And before the throne was a sea of glass.
Man gave power to the dragon for gain,
And things reverted back to the days of old,
Fighting one on one, than by finger.
An ending of one’s own life was desired by many,
Innocent blood crying from the dust.

Currents filter through from house to house,
And many faces are the same as the other
By those who enjoy playing god.
I voice the voice of hope,
Finding those who wish to be found.
The winds howl in defiance,
Ears deafened by whistling screams.

Many tunes are left unremembered.
Demons infest the human mind,
Creating showers of blood by our own making.
Happy tunes are sung in minor keys.
Man has gone askew by the hissings of the serpent,
Plaguing ourselves with terrible things,
And the dragon gnashes its teeth at my heels.

Memories are shattered again and again,
Lies becoming truths, and reality a dream.
The dragon rejoices in the follies of man.
With augmenting tears, I speak truth,
Taking those who are found to the valley,
And on bended knee, we walk,
Guided by an unseen, but felt, hand . . .

NOTES: I wrote this poem on July 24th, 1998, while I was a Glasgow. It used to be “Untitled” and was first published in The National Fantasy Fan Vol. 4 No. 1 March 2004 (also known as The Fan and The e-Fan #1) as “Untitled”. It has gone through a few titles such as “Two Voices” and “The Doom & Hope of Man”. However, thus far, I feel that End Times is more appropriate.

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