Dark Clouds Above Europe Poem by Mario, Lucien, Rene Odekerken

Dark clouds gather,
heavy and silent, they press upon the earth,
a cold breath trailing across the rivers,
whispering in the tongues of ash and iron.

The sky, once vast, now crouches low,
its weight bearing down on the fragile bones of cities.
Fields that once swayed with golden grain
now bristle with metal teeth,
their roots sunk deep in soil heavy with memory.

Men march to the rhythm of drums that do not stop,
eyes dulled, shoulders burdened by centuries.
The songs of childeren are swallowed
by the hum of machines and the crack of fire,
a hymn of sorrow written in steel.

Mountains stand unmoved,
witnesses to the quiet unraveling,
their peaks shrouded in shadow,
as if to shield themselves from the sight below.

And Europe, with its ancient stones and wounded pride,
bends beneath the storm's embrace.
War hovers,
a vulture in the high winds,
its talons poised above the heart of history.