Future?

Broken spires claw the sky,

With stripped fingers of potency,

Bare, denuded of glittering beauty,

Like a harlot consumed by age.

Silence echoes flowing sands,

As wind wanders aimlessly,

Trapped within streets to nowhere.

Whilst black ravens bedeck the sky,

Gifting presents of blackened omens,

Upon wings of multitudinous swarm.

Zenith sun stares on down,

With glaring brightness, upon a sea.

A sea of sand, dull of beige,

Who's barren womb cries

A dirge of sullen desecration!

Twisted brown skeletal fingers,

Wave a lifeless tempo,

As waves of sand flow on by,

While dry roots drink no nourishment.

Death wanders by writing stories,

In the naked heated earth,

His scythe dripping bloody ink.

Desolation keeps fond company

Upon the land where once...

Man's grandiose dreams raised him,

High up above all others.

By whose own actions

Has cast him fallen 

To be...

King of all the dead.