Mutatio mundi

No more blue skies

nor golden sun

the fields, once green,

they fade away.

 

Withering reflects the void

in the dourest flowerbed.

The Lady of Dreams, gloomy purity,

takes the veil of milky greyness.

 

Life slows down with every step

as long as there are some to take.

Joy is banished from smiling

growing to be a grotesque pantomime.

 

Shinging eyes turn into blind lanterns

and non more lovely moonbeams.

A new day is born with each call

of a sadly cawing nightingale.

 

Badmorning becomes a greeting

of darkness and sorrow.

Crows are lamenting their lost meaning.

Rivers once proudly roaring now dry out

and stony grounds are all that's left.

 

A shadow falls down on earth,

subduing omen of death.