Thy Fate Poem by Anonymous Rose

Standing on a quiet, barren land,
thousands deceased, gloomy atmosphere, yet a sunflower bloomed.
Veiled in grey and white surrounding, tanned.
Meagre and affluent, all vanity statures doomed.

Here my imagination works for resting in sand.
The apparent ceased life may have boomed.
Grey and white dispersing to colours, turning to grassland.
Or distressed and suppressed, narrowed graves, their bodies decomposed.

Thy destiny, dependant on deeds, is in your own hand.
Life can be boon or bane, that I've disclosed.