FALLING VALHALLA

Fallen near the towers two,

firemen and the men in blue,

knew intrepid passions wake,

dreams that shatter for their sake,

conspiring now forevermore,

that abhor at core to place in store,

the memory of an aftermath,

distilling truths upon their path.

Echocast in fever's pitch,

requiem, the scope of dreams,

driven by the foulest schemes,

pundits fearful in their stock,

given some to wasteful talk,

skyward inward

inland empire shock.

Oracular empires nascent gift,

fallen from a hateful shift,

caught in the grift,

of a surfeit rift,

falling Valhalla.

Poem and image © 2016 by Peter Kaleb Theodoropoulos aka Rockwell Wilder