Sonnet 384

Then march forever onward wicked Time,
Carrying the world with you to it’s doom;
And n’er look back upon your vile crimes
As you stride ever forward to your tomb.
May lines of purposed truth your story tell
To chronicle the worth there razed to ruin;
Of good or evil that your blade befell:
Sad effigies of hope lie callous strewn.
Relentless, obligate, cruel, unconcerned
Here always  true unto your tyrant vows,
Determined to destroy, all beauty burned—
Charred relics of the past to but avow.
From forth a fire scoured plain emotes a flower;
‘Midst tears of rain, fair proof of beauty’s power.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

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