Beneath these falling walls we sit,
heads held askance in deep meditation
surrounded by the relics of our glory days.
The wonders of our once buoyant treasury,
overawed magnanimously by penury.
Like the lawangate swimmingly it went
unheralded in its passing.
Misguided by their ambitions,
we were lost in their wake of devastation.
Shellshocked into remembrance,
our only redemption is in salvation.
What dignity I ask, is there in indignity?
Crying over spilt milk,
refuge we come a seeking
in this fortress of falling walls
though feeble its frame.
Trapped in these dire straits,
the future for us remains a mirage.
A paradigm shift they say,
but Pants down we lay.
Which game our traps will tame,
none will foretell;
and slowly is this silence killing us.
Running from yesterday’s misdeeds,
scared of tommorow’s retribution;
we were left broken and scarred
like those relics of a gone age.
For forced to abscond our places,
beneath these crumbling walls
we found succor
if but for a fleeting moment.