Not long ago edited October 2013

            
     
     
     
     
Mortar crumbles,clay again,      
buildings fall and castles fail      
generations crushed and fearful      
no more trust in bricks and mortar.  
      
Tents,linen now to shade the sun      
or shroud the dead . . . . . .      
needle thread and cotton.      
Itinerant cloth to clothe the poor.  
      
Carpets, card board boxes,      
grain,flown in by aeroplanes.      
Where next week we do not know      
do not think in years.    
     
They are but dreams indulged      
by men with guns and gold.      
Great men die as great men do      
read by few . .mourned by many.  
      
Unheeded in their wisdom.      
Too late we know their worth.      
And so the mortar crumbles      
buildings fall and castles too.  
      
There will be war some day,      
somwhere someone will die      
but not alone, in company,      
loneliness is not for them.  
      
Their common fate to die      
until a time shall be      
when men shall rule      
as once they did,      
with arrows and a bow.