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 beauties razed to ruin;
Of good or evil that your blade befell:
Sad effigies of hope lie callous strewn.
Relentless, obligate, cruel, unconcerned
Here always  bound unto your tyrant vows,
Determined to destroy, all beauty burned—
Charred relics of the past to but avow.
Yet from those ravaged fields emotes a flower;
‘Midst tears of rain, fair proof of beauty’s power.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

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