Spasms Poem by Amos Greig

Social cohesion was our dream,
we the gardeners and cultivators of tomorrow,
watched in sadness as rot set in,
turned our hopes into bitter memories.

Future's potential sparkles like
embers on the breeze as,
tomorrow's burn like
yesterday's discarded leaves.

Like carrion calls, Twitter,
comes to life informing
of the ongoing strife,
hyenas circle the fire.

Deirdre of the sorrows sheds her tears,
turns from the fire, pulls her shawl
tight around her shoulders.
youths take to the street with blood on their mind.

Time has shown that nations come and go,
only nature remains triumphant,
armed with shield and spear
she hunts humanities creations.

We are embers on the wind,
fireflies dancing, fleetingly,
time consumes our brightness,
masked by modern lies.