89 Seconds To Midnight. Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

Eightynine seconds, thin and frail,
To midnight's chilling, dark veil.
The clock still ticks, a steady dread,
For all the dreams, the words unsaid.

Machines now sleep, their power gone,
A simpler dawn, a world withdrawn.
No towering lights to pierce the night,
Just embers glowing, soft and white.

Centuries lost, a backward slide,
Where hope and progress gently died.
The skills we knew, now hard to find,
Leaving shadows in the mind.

Can we recall, rebuild anew?
Or watch the darkness seep right through?
The clock still whispers, low and deep,
'Awake, dear world, from slumbering sleep.'

Tor M.Solvang