A Foretelling

Clear water flows quietly
As time passes by so close
To the arrival of fate’s
Sealing hands to judge

The unworthy souls who
Wander about searching
The land of pits and treasures
Only but a few sees the truth

The sunny days had passed
And left the flowers abloom
In it’s warm embrace
As a mother’s bosom to a child

Now cometh the rain
Falling endlessly, and mercilessly
Upon the dried forsaken
Metropolis of sinners and saints

And when the judgment of one
Who’s name unmentioned cometh
The land shall be purged clean
To welcome a new history

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