Friday, August 5, 2011

The Breaking of the Tablets

The tablets are broken, vision lost,
panic replaces the love we had.
The ancient paths, long trodden, have crossed
and double crossed our trusting souls.

Dusty bones dipped in a river
of blood, we swim against the current
as the trees, over-arching,
shake angry limbs at the sky,

the way our hearts rage against ribs
that refuse to open outwards. Rise
or fall, we groan with the soil
in this horror of living tedium,

until we turn up somewhere, wandering
disoriented under the useless stars
that point nowhere helpful in this
empty world of no escapes.

Eventually, we find ourselves
fallen, as all things do, to the sea
and its endless waves, its ceaseless
hunger for all things fresh and flowing.

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