The Necropolis

The sky stretches her arms
Over my dead city;
There is no dance of lights
In those faraway stars;
Tonight the ghostly streets
Are tattered and empty.

Yesterday there were mists
And strange fogs went floating
Across the grey expanse
Shrouding the many years
I have lived among hoards
Of stiff marionettes.

I have closed my windows,
But kept my doors open.
The dim rooms are waiting
For the flame of candles
And the trembling voices
Of long-forgotten friends.

Who will come in the day?
And who in the darkness?
There are shadows inside
And outside. Everywhere
The world has turned silent
Like a crumbling churchyard.

I am tired of the lanes
And the old alleyways-
Sickly bones that stand out
As some famed monument
Biding its time, watching
The whole lot fall apart.

I call to mind the years
That flew by like the birds
In winter. Dead city
Of my starry-eyed youth
Yours is the siren song
On whose rocks, I lie wrecked!
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Beryl Zephyr

An occasional writer but a regular thinker, Beryl sometimes fiddles in speculative fiction. He sees both humour and tragedy in everyday events and is extremely concerned with the fate of other creatures trapped in the monstrous march of 21st-century human civilization.

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