Sunday, June 26, 2005

the leavings of a dried-up ocean

scattered runes of an ancient folk gather dust in time’s memory
softly the words of magic and beauty are lost in a different story
whispers travel over unknown sands and set astir distant dreams
tremors awaken the restless ones blinded by cruel moonbeams
dry waves choke the voice of stones and ravage the parching earth
the echoes of the aching fathoms are drowned in screams of mirth
the night stillness comes alive and thrums with unsaid pleas
and the creatures thrash and struggle in vain striving yet for release