Requiem for the World
All but two had left him
On his path to self righteousness
With each step down the autumn road
There is more blood
Never ending blood on the long, dirt path
Alienated from his compatriots
Left to fend for himself
No amount of power could rescue him
From his slow, downward spiral
His brashness is taking its toll
Allies have died
The victim of others hatred
Hatred of what he stood for
And what he has done.
But now that the blood has been shed
He turns, and looks backward
Backward at the path he has already trodden
And he finally realizes what he has done.
Destitute and alone on the path he has carved for himself
And there is no going back.
Soon he will reach the end of the path.
And there, lying before him is a shovel
And a chisel and a stone
For it is time. The long, autumn path has lead up to this
He must dig his own grave, for that is what he has done to himself
And to his friends.
He walks on egg shells as he nears the end
First, thought he must bury his dead children
Those he killed in his quest for liberation
And his friend
Who are dead because of his actions
Then, he must turn the shovel on himself.
He digs the hole, slowly, the shovel clunking against stone
And carves out his headstone
With its somber, mournful epitaph
And his tears turn the ground to mud, for he realizes what he has done
How he killed his friends, and aided his enemies
And he lies down, in the cold, hard grave
His tears give him no comfort
For he realizes what he has done.
And now, there is no turning back
He knows this
And he cries, in his grave
He cries out to the world:
"What Have I Done?"