the rocks in front of meare layered like sheets of paper works
a load i must suppose for
centuries unread
the grasses of the desert
have come to cover
a part of the history of their
shale
i am the shadow at noonday
asking
what these rocks can do for me?
or shall i say
rocks, rocks, boulders of rocks
tell me the heaviness of your
burden
tell the secrets of your
strengths
the echoes keep on rebounding
sounding like the
laughter of a madman
asking the questions and
figuring out the answers
from the same sound
No comments:
Post a Comment