Grovel under the affliction,
Clambered the stairs of power,
Scudded with clouds away from truth.
But the sight of time was till infinity,
Cascading from the fear ejected,
When the busker played it's remorseful tune,
For the King who stood erected,
On the deception's throne.
Tears be shed by the damned,
The doomed grabble into sin.
Mortals in search of Styx,
To eradicate Achilles' Heel.
I stood here wondering,
Is the world evanescing?
Will it become a putrid nihility?
©Copyright Rex Fonseka
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