Like A Hill. Poem by Driss Ezzireg

Like a hill
The slopes of which
Can not
Help
Wild animals elope
Nor prevent
Man from sliding down
To his final ditch,
God stands alone.
Alone and lonely.
Once a creator
He
Is now
A creation
Of Man's
Cogitations.
Diminished,
He cowards
Before
The impressive
Prowess of his
No longer
Image.
Having lived long on high towers
He can not impress
Man
Anymore.
Lost touch.
Lost Empire.
Lost full grip
On his powers
He is now
A destitute
In a murky mire.
Suicide‘s desire.