Ode in A minor

Bare winter time
           dark barren skies
a city out of tune
           with the stars

None prepared to pay
           the price of light
or of love
           The old narratives

done to death
           Where is there
a vision
           to cut through

the drudgery ?
           the years
of hollow living
           and empty promise ?

Love
           is our birthright
betrayal
           the most heinous

of crimes
           All things end
except love
           God preserve

John Lyons