Chaos and Dismay

poetry

img: author microsoft Paint app

Has it not yet been promised
Scattered from the ashes of Prometheus
Played upon, a single note formed
A slight inkling of sound
Not found, nor bound, but prophesized
Not timely but frowned
Down played, frayed
Delayed a thousand decades
Decayed
Decadent, unwarranted in its fall
To be caught once more
And put forward
The score
Hark, not all is won
Less still is done
Where were you when I cried out that sum
Vestiges of all…

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