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Time is like the wind
Blowing warm and cold
Changing young to old
Searching for an end.
Lamented days go and come
And dusk is oh, so cunning
Blind to the world it’s numbing
Nowhere to call a home.
Streets now paved with misery
A solitary fortress moonlit
No mortal man can find it
The Painter’s brush a mystery.
Beneath the crystal sky
Are broken men of little years
Endless darkness drawing near
The Painter strokes his final line.
How once they did believe
In something more than hope
But fate has silenced with a rope
All men had once achieved.
Awaken your heart and gather your soul
Unfetter that seditious flame
For it’s you and you alone they blame
For all their sin and woe.
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EXCELLENT poem, I would call it. The free flow, without punctuations makes it more accessible. I also like the rich imageries. But...the "OH" in the second stanza....I dont think it has much to add to the work. Besides that, ......all correct.
