A Powerless Empire


One minute bone white;
Filled with the ghosts of the past,
The hope for the future,
And the purity of jasmine flowers,
Whispering through the wind.
The next minute pitch black -
Unearthing the tar and toil
Filed into the city.
But what happens next?
The window is dark,
The eyes through which
My vision looks beyond
Are clouded with a black fog
That fills the air with a toxic poison
Of guilt and shame.
But most of all fear.
As the clouded fog looks
From one place to another
And slowly unfolds into a soft gray
And uncovers the shadows.
Dark.
Dark shadows.
Running from place to place,
Searching for a source of warmth
Of some type of color to fill the empty void
That is held in the powerless empire.

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