The air is wrapped in sickened veils
and filled with cries of Thought and Memory
Burned soil clings to the parched roots,
the ruins of the deadened tree
Gone are the eagle and the hawk,
lost is their wisdom and advice
And the old ravens wearily croak
afflicted with grave agony.
Henceforth blinded are their eyes.
Within the desiccated well
longsyne begotten doom remains
And wolves are feasting on the carcass
of another world.
(RS 10/2012)