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An eagle lands,
as an Empire falls
into the dust of history,
its eye catches the sunset
and it takes to its roost.
Buildings smoke
and climbers climb.
The remnants of what was
clings on hopelessly
seeking to avoid the future.
The eagle closes its eyes
focusing on one lost image.
A fading dream
as the bird of freedom
slips meekly into a coma.
And the serpent of control
oozes in to replace common sense,
tightening the noose
that strangles the eagles legacy.
© Pagan Paul (22/05/20)
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