crestfallen upheaval And the doleful lament slowly fills silence, breaking it into small portions of grief. And the sorrowful souls that gather in gloom repine over their unworthy souls. And their wretched, woebegone lives stretch tautly in night. And the mournful melancholies pray a despondent dirge. And the dolorous, sentient beings yearn in woeful innocence for the distant dawn. And a clarion trumpet blast deafens their darkness, and brilliant, solar spectra blind their morose existence, and the potent sunlight shatters their chasm of doom, and ultra-violet hues claim the inherited humans, in glorious light. © 2014 ajwrites57 A Long
"Always be a poet, even in prose." ~ Charles Baudelaire