Post by gryphonpoet on Sept 21, 2005 2:28:07 GMT -5
When the moon has grown so old that it yawns,
I yearn for the place where I remain calm.
That river flows left to right in front of me
as it takes my thoughts were it goes. Behind me
the stench of corpses rubs my shoulders
while lights flicker at the corners of my eyes.
Perhaps you will not be comfortable,
surely the dead bring their anger at my presence,
but with cleansing water before me and
death incarnate behind me, thoughts clear out
to leave my mind pristine and operational.
I go there tonight. I'll be back at dawn.
I yearn for the place where I remain calm.
That river flows left to right in front of me
as it takes my thoughts were it goes. Behind me
the stench of corpses rubs my shoulders
while lights flicker at the corners of my eyes.
Perhaps you will not be comfortable,
surely the dead bring their anger at my presence,
but with cleansing water before me and
death incarnate behind me, thoughts clear out
to leave my mind pristine and operational.
I go there tonight. I'll be back at dawn.
