The Southen Arbiters Poem by Ofentse Mercy Hajane

The darkness descends upon us,
A suffocating shroud,
As the chill in the air intensifies,
Our souls grow unbowed.
We are the witnesses of fate, the prophets of destruction,
Our words dripping with despair,
Our minds lost in deduction.

We see shadows lengthen,
As the night draws nearer still,
And we know deep in our bones,
That all is not well,
Nor will it ever be.
The winds howls in fury,
As if to rage against the dying light,
And we sit,
Paralyzed by fear,
As time takes its inevitable flight,
And seed the world in darkness.

For we know that winter is cruel,
A season of death and decay,
The harshness of its grip,
Kills the light at the end of the tunnel.
And we the arbiters of the verse,
Bears the weight of this knowledge,
As we pen our lamentations,
Our mournful elegies in homage to what is yet to come,
And what will inevitable be.

We see the scars that time has wrought,
The wounds that never heal,
The price we pay for living in two worlds,
For daring to strive against the surreal.
And so,
We sit and eerily wait,
For what fate has in store,
As winter's icy grip hold us captive,
And the burning ashes of the world not heard by all,
Screams to escape our guard.

By OM.Hajane