Shadows In A Wasteland Sky Poem by Alexander Romanov

Between the ice and the silence, we linger,
Shadows cast by a fading sun, we move
Through wastelands where love's echo is a whisper,
And labor is the mantra we recite without meaning.
Tattered remnants cling to us—symbols decay,
Swastikas eroded, identities blurred.
Would that we were fools, gazing upward,
Seeking answers in the drifting clouds.

Our souls, transparent butterflies caught
In the web of time, dusted with forgotten dreams,
Rise hastily above garments darkened by despair,
Over the landscape of our own desolation.
Bodies dissolve into earth's embrace,
Milk spilled, a libation to the indifferent ground.
Moments slip away—unseen, unheard,
As clouds pass by in silent testament.

Under the looming shadow of our own cessation,
We yearn simply to exist, to be real.
Tears of unborn generations well within us,
Future sorrows we cannot hope to heal.
Forgive our souls' frailty, the depths unfathomed,
Sorrows pooling like blood beneath silent skies.
We are echoes fading beneath the clouds,
Fragments in a world we cannot surmise.