A thousand lives are now reduced
the pulsing crowd is not pursued
in the blink of a jaundiced eye
a multitude is put aside
the field of dreams is now bare
fences fall in disrepair
no longer needed to protect
the trampled crops of years past

the kaleidoscope has ceased to turn
colors fade into the night
as dust descends to blind the mind
no longer will the mirrors shine
with patterns set upon cracked walls
taunting what had come before
when rainbows turn to shifting ash
the only motion that now survives

still the shadows are cast to hide
where the road may lead from night
mirrors smashed for their crimes
against the souls trapped behind
the visions meant for cloistered groups
projected upon the broken glass
don’t ask why this must occur
when a thousand lives are no more.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190425.