Scotched earth

You are a writer. Dig deep! There’s always something to write about.

Sorry men. The earth is scotched and the well is dry. It’s all dust. Nothing but dust. Only the rains can make a change. But who knows when?

So bless that thing or curse it. Which ever brings deliverance.

What are you thinking about?

Nothing but strangeness. 
There’s terror in their hearts
And fear in their minds

The world is at an end
Maybe
But why worry
When it happens we won’t be here to mourn or regret

Things that go bump in the dark
Are just things
No power to harm or to save
But you heard the stories when you were young

You have put them on a pedestal
Now that you are grown
They watch your days and haunt your nights

But look away for a moment
Look into the light
It’s all transient like life itself.
The morning will come.
It will be alright.

Or maybe not.
But either way, in the end, it matters not.
Nothing does.