Ancram Writing


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Slowly the thundering storm clouds are gathering,
Tumbling, clustering over the sky.
Frightened men wondering, frightened men dithering,
Broken men blustering,
Hearing the rumbling,
Knowing the dreams that they cherish must die.

Gone are the children's smiles, baffled and silent now,
Gone is their innocence; childhood is dead.
Watching their parents, not trusting nor hoping now,
Faces of insolence
Blaming their arrogance,
Feeding their fire on the words which were said.

Dark the horizon now hiding the warming sun,
Dark is the ground in the hatred-filled land.
Structures are shaken and torn from foundation
Increasing the sound
Of the wind which is rising
And tearing the bark from the trees as they stand.

Crawling the stricken crowds seek for their mother
To shelter their eyes, for their homes are no more.
Crushed by the thunder clouds, turn on each other
Violent and terrified,
Brother to brother,
Killing, destroying, 'til all is at war.

Storm clouds are passing, the new light revealing
The landscape of ruin all barren and grey.
A place of no gladness, a grave to all feeling,
A song with no tune
For the melody died in the madness
And pride of the men
Who again through the storm sought to build the new day.


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