deepundergroundpoetry.com

The Dying Breed

Sparkling stars, faint strips of light, stroll across
the fields at night. As the earth turns, the wind burns. The dew
drenched leaves hang high below the midnight sky. The flaming crow
flies low and bursts into dust, scattering it's ashes on a mammal's
tusk, erect in a field of fossils, insect apostles, the murdered dodo's
grave, the boneyard cave, and the slack-black pond where the birds
would bathe. The acrid acid rain left puddles of pain, the suffering
and torture left no man sane, now there's just shadows where souls had
lain. The seas flow thick with putrid waste, with toxic rust the rivers
are laced. The last of a dying breed takes shelter beneath a bombed-out
base, and stares extinction in the face. The cancerous lungs of a
newborn foal breath in the scorched amber air, chemical warfare has
taken it's toll. A dog's desperate bark rings out through the moonlit
park, where men would dream of clear blue skies, before civilisation's
dark demise, forlorn hope locked in their eyes.[/font]