It is dead
Peace ho! To the strength giver,
The hope giver and calm provider
What gave purpose has become meaningless
Caught in the sprint of time and torrent of ill will
Of those who have sold their lives for riches,
Because they wanted it in their ranks
Because it was high and mighty and knew its way around
Everyone wanted it for its simple perfection
And was ready to pay the highest bid for it gave them satisfaction
Narrated to it stories of displeasures of those who withheld longer than themselves
A few of those who were aberrant too,
But they are outcasts! Do not trouble your little head with them
How can I match them? I who is just an entity whose life is at the disposal of a single destructive whim?
And I will be lost when the sun goes down.