Reflections on the Past

In the early days of winter;
when the chilling omens blew
across the dormant valley,
dressed in ashen hue.

Was in the late of even,
ere night had killed the day;
I wandered on the moorland,
upon forgotten ways.

I sat upon a riven stone,
and thought about the past.
I thought about a ruined wish
and dreams that didn't last.

I thought about a broken home.
About a lullaby.
I thought about a vibrant love
and how that love had died.

I thought about the hate that flashed
like flint on tempered steel.
I wondered why the words still hurt,
the pain was still so real.

I thought about how Rome had burned
as I had played my games
I'd spent the years in empty tasks;
and never saw the flames.

They rose around me like the fires
of Hell that know no time.
I saw it all, at last. Too late!
For heartless pantomime

had hidden from me for so long
the truth behind façade;
of alabaster purity,
It was naught but cruel fraud.

My towers fell, my castles burned
Apocalypse had come.
The vultures soared above my head
and screamed my requiem.

I pondered then forgiveness.
A thing I could not find
within my heart to give to grant.
"Forgiveness is Divine!"

A wind whipped then beneath my coat.
I drew my collar tight.
The wind was fierce and biting cold,
It heralded the night.
I saw around me in the dim
shadows of a fading light.