Death of Truth

Pretty words flying red and hopeful
Past starving minds pause for perusal.
Beckoning for applause for their sunset hue,
But rapidly turning black with age.
Withered husks of past truths
Displayed in the light of day.
As day withers all but the steadfast.
It is nature and rebirth.
But black on black,
Higher than trees,
Higher than thought
Clamber to stifle the sun.
Below, where the light cannot sing,
Whispers crawl through soiled, festering perception.
Voices uncounted cry in anguish at the nature of the light
While more fear to trembling the light growing dim.
The black will consume, suffocate the life.
Suffocate the whispers in the darkness.
The hopeful rays that still speak
Through blind unwelcoming murk,
Swallowing light...
And leaving nothing.