in an ancient time
trekked a forgotten tribe
isolated, in their own world
 
cruel
because existing was cruel to them
 
primitive
because that was all they knew
 
fair to observe, fierce to fight
they pillaged the earth they trod on
 
nomadic
they wandered aimlessly
through the bearded forest
 
the slash of burnt offerings
marked their travel
 
they lived
but their eyes were empty
 
and the world
gray, surrounded them
  
they did not hear the call of beauty
they did not feel the joy of living
they did not know why they were there
nor did they care
 
the cold was biting
one winter's day
 
the wind blew fierce
they lost their way
 
the night descended
the snow fell deep
 
the spirit of life
was not theirs to keep
 
the empty sun rose
to a world of white
 
only a few shrouded echoes
described their plight
 
winter cradled their earthly remains
 
and spring quickly erased
their journey
of pains