Lamentation 11
fiction
edward w pritchard
Who tore down the great nations of history has cast his gaze on me. I fall and suffer, slowly dropping into nameless obscurity. Forgotten as I live, soon to be unknown forever into creeping perpetuity to the descendants of the sons of Men. Broken by the challenges of random fortune at the end of my existence I stumble alone deafly waiting for my last cue from him who created cosmic order and significance.
Hear my pleas! Where do I go? There are so many persons scurrying fro and yon as I sink into whirling ectropy.
What do I say and write?
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