https://youtu.be/ORKCWfbrY8k

Acrostic: Art of the Muse

©March 22nd 2023, Olan L. Smith 

Albeit, times are harsh, jagged at the edges―

Restless souls drag chins, taste injustice's filthy loam,

Terrible mortars rain down like drops of thunder

On blameless bodies, waxing fluids on our spiritual home,

Forever adrift, and a mist of vigor rises from earthly abodes.

The tent rips―the wolf walks in unopposed,

Here he ravages virtue, righteousness is erased,

Extinct until the madness is satisfied by blood of purity.

Mostly, the human lust for more is never satisfied

Until the perfect note rings through the air to reach

Surviving hosts, then everywhere it is time to reach out,

Extinguish madness and allow hope's muse to sing.