Tall grasses grow
In a holy place
Swaying softly in dusky breezes

For some
It is over

And even the moon
Laments their loss

People have made
All of this
Happen

All of it

Everyone
Without realising
Played a part

Even those...
Especially those
Who did...
Nothing

Nothing
Nothing

Slept
Slept through their instincts

Walked in a daze
Of deluded dreams
Cosseted, closeted from the tides

But the winds will catch up
And the nothing doers
Will be rid of the numbness

And return to the battle ground again and again
And again and again

Until...
One day
Dawn breaks
Most vital
And fresh
And goodness
Will appear