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"All That Remains" a poem about reality
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Out of the east hove the sun,
shedding light upon the land,
rended by the plagues of desolation,
where mankind fought hand to hand.
The wails of the battlefield’s perils
volley through the lingering breeze,
echoing sounds, almost whispers,
the last breaths of dying pleas.
What have we done to ourselves?
Why have we caused so much pain?
What on this earth is worth dying for,
when everything is lost in vain?
All that remains is the ash.
All that remains is the stone.
All that remains is the dust.
All that remains is the bone.
All that we share is everlasting,
as are the seeds that are sown.
All that remains is the laughter,
carried away by the winds that were blown.
The dawn of this day is a memory.
The sunset has yet to become.
All things that exist are ephemeral,
to an end they must yield and succumb.