Zero

The power of nothing always wins
it is the end of time no one can fight that.
Dictators shiver in their beds
This tenuous hold on power slowly dripping away
Slipping out of weak hands
Nothing, the word reverberates in their mind,
I had it all why can I not keep it?
The balcony, jubilation they try to believe
They are loved by the people.
The whispering voice, a cry in the night
In cosmic time a bullet flies slowly, but it always
Hits its mark... on it is written: Nothing is yours.

poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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