Black silk and stars
Scattered like dust:
Birthplace of our wars,
Greed, power, love and lust.

Revolutions erupt and die,
For new worlds to be born-
Of truths and a lie-
But each to a path forsworn.

Scorched skies rain ashes-
Prophecising phoenixes and flowers,
Incinerating past gashes,
And shrouding unprecedented hours.

All spinning toward nothingness,
Yet struggling to not.
Scrambling to escape oblivion's harness,
And the return to naught.