Endings

Everything solid grey, lying in ashen ruins,
I stood from the rubble, glancing about.

It was true what I had seen,
I could stay no longer.

These artifacts lay quiet now, peacefull.
Tired eyes no longer searched.
Horizon gobbled by dust, smoke.

The sun faught a diligent fight, but it gave up.
The moon tried it's hand at world domination as well,
he too failed.
It was a long time before I saw straight, or clear.
This haze of smoke, without the clarity of mirrors.
Destruction.

I suppose it's not what I expected,
to be dead.

First impression is of the phoenix rising from the ashes, but the impression of rebirth is lost in the rest of the poem.

I like the image of the horizon being gobbled: one doesn't usually do this to a horizon.

The sun and moon part is a little cliched - perhaps it needs some other image of symmetry that strikes a little more true to the tone of the work?

I also like the line

Quote:

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It was a long time before I saw straight, or clear.

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<font size="2" face="Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif">I don't know why, but lately imagery having to do with the eyes, or with vision are very powerful for me. All my own writing is full of the eyes and what they see and how they see it.