Wasteland

by Abilash Kalupahanage

Instagram: @poetryfortheinsane

 

Rotting branches weep

Sap frozen, feeding pale worms.

Dryads died long ago.

 

Leviathan floats

Belly up, fed on plastic death.

No gulls claim the prize.

 

Poseidon, trash crowned,

Laments the death of wild Pan.

But he has lost far more.

 

Hornless, Cernunnos

Walks the concrete jungle. His

Kingdom has fallen.

 

Speared heads clash no more

Rats and Behemoths, all gone

Silent stands the earth.

 

A corpse, man shaped

Sits atop a cast iron throne.

At last, the world is his.

This is my vision of an apocalyptic world, one where the very things that I love and hold dear have ceased to be and the things that remain are but a fraction of what they once were. I will not venture to explain any further into the details, for to do so would rob the poem of its magic and cause offence to my muse. (That is metaphorical of course. There are no Greek deities whispering in my ear 😉

 

 

Thumbnail image from: http://<a href=’https://www.freepik.com/photos/nature’>Nature photo created by freepik – www.freepik.com</a>

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