What Will Be

 

What Will Be

 

 

            Time will tear down the spectacles

            In a captivating trance

            As the seconds fold like blackjack cards

            And it all dissolves to chance

 

            When the last crowd slowly fades

            Into parades of silenced cries

            The golden wings of morning

            Will spread out against the skies

 

            And the flight of fear will flutter

            In the presence of the dawn

            And the multitudes will shutter

            As the cycle circles on