Beauty lies waste
Bitter tears many taste
Sorrow etched on weary faces
Skin stretched taut
Over brittle bones
Man and his death
Tread, side by side

Our lands no longer chaste
Raped, of its virtue stripped
Makes to hell’s pit
In terrible haste

No longer do bird songs
Rouse us to dawn
The land knows no more
The secret tongue of rain

The seasons have shaken hands
Dressed in drought
The land barren and bare
Decked in dust.

Image: Crying Child by Bairimages
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