|
As
the spider spins
her web and warlocks cast
spells
And the weavers of life
sew the tapestries of fate
Which remind us of heaven and our own private hells
Subjects for ballads
for minstrels to croak
What
legacy will we be leaving
to our own children's children?
What
time bombs are we making to blow up in their path?
What legacy will
we be leaving to our own children's children?
You know the Sword of Damocles hangs by a single thread
What
arcane delights wait for the biographers to grasp
As they rake through our footprints... the testaments of our past
Prompting journalists to snigger... their readers to gasp
Leaving their verdicts to echo through time
So, what legacy will we be leaving our own children's children?
How will they view us through the kaleidoscope of time?
What legacy will we be leaving to our own children's children?
You know the Sword of Damocles hangs by a single thread
Our
days turn to years... we've just one life to give
But the centuries will soon pass as their kings turn to dust
Will they leave joy or sorrow, who will care or forgive?
What will history record of tomorrow?
What
legacy will they leave to their own children's children?
Will they look back on their time knowing they've done their best?
What legacy will they leave to their own children's children?
Will the Sword
of
Damocles still hang by a single silken thread
 ~~~
~~~ ~~~
©
Stefan Lewis-Fish
(31st October, 2004)
| 
