Sunflowers

wordsout by godfrey rust
Incarnate < 21 of 25 >

Sunflowers

When we first came we saw the yellow field

of faces raised towards a brilliant flame.
We left them withered, ripe with summer's yield,

each head hung heavy as in pregnant shame.

Some people have their moment in the sun,

all eyes upon them in the big parade

while others watch and wonder how it's done,
knowing that youth and pleasure always fade.

When every day ends with more bridges burned,

the dead not raised but only longer dead,

and time, once a forgetful dreamer, turned

a blind and ruthless tyrant, be it said:

nothing but love atones for all the lies

that beauty promises and age denies.