On Dusky Times

The day is dark; the sky is dim.
These inky clouds are growing grim.
No light or peace within this shade,
lost deep within this clouded glade.

The traveler stops on dusky hill
to take in all that now lays still.
He needs no sun to see this day
that falls asleep and fades away.

And laughs at the skulls in the ground
that once smiled; now make no sound.
But moving on, he gives a glance
and sheds a tear at their dead stance.

The traveler lives, but living lost,
without the light, he pays the cost.

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