My World Is Falling.

With every passing day and with each fleeting moment,
I see how my world is falling, falling down on me.
With every wailing cry and with each unheard lament,
I see how my world is falling, an abyss is all I see.
A garden of earthly delights that I once called my own,
the songs of muted angels, in an eternal reprise,
the shrine of euphoria supreme and its sovereign throne,
O! Departed days of wonder will you not return please?
For I remember my valley from a time of peace and love,
the olives grew purple dark and the meadows evergreen,
with flowers of war wilting beneath the abode of doves,
was this world an honest truth or nay!, a wishful dream?
Where once our monuments stood, on grounds hallowed great,
and lofty rose the aspiration of our nation just,
today they crumble down all owed to a deserving fate,
rest our mortal dreams betrothed to unfound dust.
The slowly dying embers have turned to ashes here,
and pains me how no different, they are from darkly doom,
for the rushing moment of today shall not hardly care,
shall not recall glory past but presently dying bloom.
My world is falling bit by bit, piece by piece, day by day,
and the memories of burning rain scorch this grieving mind,
the walkway to an endless dawn, a dawn though weary grey,
lights the corners of my dreams, for tomorrow must be blind.

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