Fallow Souls by Robert Fullarton

Fallow Souls

by Robert Fullarton

Copyright Robert Fullarton

In the past they torched the land
Presently they feast upon the tree of knowledge
They feast until the fields are fallow
The lords of misrule shout
From their fallow souls
Not reaping, not singing, bare of love
Giving the little and the big
Their fill of sweets, for all that is in vain
The trees weeping into the limpid river
Poisoned, loveless, like a cold heart
Stilled, unmoved and ready
The days of feasting make way
For the days of famine.

A pure man killed
For the criminals
Leads the way
To say what is wrong
What is right
And is not alright
Atonement for men
Of this time, all time and times to come