The Trees Lay Barren

This is an iffy poem for me... I intended it to be awkward, but I don't exactly know if it'll pay off. I like it, but at the same time- am fearful. I hope it's cool and such~ I guess, find the meaning? There are clues.

The Trees Lay Barren

A wind sapped the breath,
of a quiet notion,
a secret yearning
for summer's sweet caress.

Without poem or prophecy
the young blooms wilted,
gone from this cruel realm too soon.
The world wept their loss.

Children slept shivering in bed,
hoping to dream away a nightmare
that had birthed itself into daylight.
The horrors of imagination born to reality.

The leaves had all fallen,
ushering in the unforgiving frost.
An army of bannermen set to fight-
to keep the blossoms of hope forever dead.

The moors run black with ichor.
And though cold stifled faith,
a tyrant's blood boiled red,
and armies rose to fight.

Warmth faded from their memories,
children grew never to know the Sun.
All was gone to frost,
burning buildings the only insolation.

The world of men ripped itself asunder
and great fires consumed the spring blooms
as they rose from slumber
perishing in the light of a second Sun.

Children dug passed floral roots,
razing the land to suckle
a coveted black gold,
from nature's dried teet.

But soon they all choked,
on a smoke that burned away their lungs.
There was no longer any bread,
or grain to harvest in perpetual winter.

And the Sun no longer shined,
as if refusing a cry for life.
And so all corroded into naught,
leaving only the trees that lay barren.