No man knows the time nor the hour yet
he fears the space in between where
life borders on the fringe of obscurity
the living knowing only what the dead interprets
and history changes as seasons
Wars fought hailing religions banner
countries forged in violent manner
proceeds upon vanity fair and if
heaven is but an illusion
and God the idea insane
could it possibly turn back camorra's tide
for peace upon the land to reign
while despotism
a memory best forgotten
festers bane upon the plains
Death grows tired of collecting
unlike debt that knocks unsolicited
the earth will continue to turn blissfully
and life
continues to flourish
What imprint will posterity find
of yours and mine left behind
will peace reign or violence shine
or will man himself
be
left
in
decline