The Mill of Souls

From words to war, from voices to silence

Walking valleys, climbing hills,
Floating nervous on the seas
There’s a whisper of despair
It goes flying through the air.

First,

A harsh gathering of words,
Now confetti made of swords
Falling down with burning light
Taking tribute all in sight.



Full of fear, wears metal hats,
Hides in trenches full of rats
Life is throwing one last roar
Passing through the Mill of Souls.              

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You can read more of my work on this theme here.