A Cock Crowed

The cock crows announces death,

as nails tear through flesh and bone.

Bodies displayed on wooden beams,

in the distance one hangs himself,

while women weep, tears staining the dirt.

The voices once so loud now stand mute,

as dark clouds gather on the horizon,

and the earth trembles from its core.

Dice are cast mocking the dead,

while the fates weave a new tale.

Washed hands now seek peace,

in their slumber the innocent haunt dreams.

It is finished as all go home,

to find love, only to be left cold.

The lightened sky beckons dawn,

the sellers of goods begin the day.

The world seems the same yet,

in the air a sense of something,

not yet understood, in the smell

of myrrh, and the feel of linen.

The cock crows to announce the 

new day, as a stone is rolled away.

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