The Search Poem by Fiona Burgess

Half measures and cracked cups
Upon a feast of souls the devil sups
Laughing gleefully all the while
At the angels pained smile
Rotten meat and mouldy bread
An ancient teen paints the town red
Heedless of her family's sighs
Blissfully ignorant of her childs cries
Strolling through the promised land
A traveller loses his way in the desert sand
Crying and moaning he lies down to die
And the greedy sand swallows him with a satisfied sigh
Time trips on, uncaring of our woe
Unseeing, unhearing, of what we reap and what we sow
The world spins endlessly around a dying sun
And the rest of us pursue our reckless search for fun.