Rivers, rivulets,
streams and lakes
stymied
Lonely hills
hang their peaks
in shame
Stifled breeze, hesitant flowers
fragrance feeling
out of place
In a conquered state,
more than just
the masses
concede defeat
to await
the turn of fate
and the return of Gods
that have fled,
forsaking them
leaving the roof
of the world
permanently bared.
Comments