Pounding Hearts of Change

Walking through the mounds of morbidity, sifting through the dead elms,
Portrays not a lack of wealth, but a fruitful range of perceptions, as
The aching limbs and the dead bodies of modernism sway in the cold wind,
The meaning of hardship, of toil and pain, will radiate a fury of meaning,
A light upon its own; a gentle disease flowing through our veins, as the
Era closes and the morbid dreamer is awakened.

Pounding hearts anticipating the end, sweaty palms ready for the closure
Of time and space, carries not the signs of nervousness, but the open
Arms of welcome, for change is what we all should believe in.