Yesteryear Fiction

The Fall of Kinsmen
By John Ogden


When I see that place,
That broken field,
Those craggy battlements,
I see the throes of the dying,
I see the final breaths of my kin
Oh great sage of ages
Old crone of fate!
Why must events unfold this way?
Why must cruel fate
Cruel will of the gods
Lead my clan into the fiery maw
Of oblivion, eternity.

To me, the sage, she whispers:
“We all must make sacrifices
To keep the light at bay.”


- - -
John Ogden was conceived of a government form and a passing mailbox. He lives somewhere out in the woods of a rural land more akin to the fantasy realms of literature than real life, and his favorite dirt bikes will always be the broken ones.