The Tetrad

Skinny vultures circle passing white clouds
The doubtful grain laden waves full in breeze.
Sanctioned bandits prowl cobbled roads
And make ready to stab, wearing gilded crowns.
Bleached rags adorn man and beast,
Children from times taken forever.
Branches crack as bannered giants jog
Thoroughly untouched in ignorance.

Chaos erupts amongst the sea,
Waves crash wickedly against the hull
To overturn men pitched in battle.
Rain pitters torrents as all tremble
In fury. Zealous flourishes leave grisly
Shapes laying depart amidst mutilation,
as the swords become as raindrops.
But another in a storm.
The water is crimson,
and the bloody sea
Froths hungrily.

Trees once vibrant, leaning black moss, now
forlorn in sweltering suffocation from
That on the cruel balance of nature. Water,
Just a drop to succor, makes a trail through
Withered grass and cracked ground.
Judged a trade fairly, blessed trail ceases.
But a drop, to tease the dooming
Brevity.

With hand and pen they choose the fate,
And all the flock must wait in shadowed meadow
For the pale wolves to have their merry feast.
Arid gardens grow poisoned fruit.
Pestilence spreads, men drop dead
As their skin corrupts a sickly green.
They who survive execute until executed,
As blade parts mind from body.
The winnower purges a quarter of all.

A man can see.
Or choose not to see.