by Nick Gisburne
The shadows here are not for hollow eyes,
Though some can sense a shimmer as we shift.
Intangible, the secrets we disguise
Can starve or smother. Death is never swift.
What brings you to this garden of despair,
Alone and unprotected, eyes aglow?
A fool, but fearless. Look then, but beware:
The truth is more appalling than you know.
Behold the fertile fields of human hate.
These bitter fruits are almost fully grown.
Be certain that you travelled here too late.
Your world is cursed, unworthy to atone.
Turn back, towards the wilderness you crossed,
Persuading those who listen they are lost.
