Heartless predecessors have fashioned my mind and only in dreams do I find myself . . . only in dreams. I pray the shadow dancers do not bring a screen of smoke to hide my soul, for death preys in the stillness of each breath and hollow is his reckoning. Woe to all who bid the call of his incessant plea! He summons from deep within the earth’ s dark core where you nor I shall never more bear chance to witness truth. No time to discern the lies set before us on golden scrolls spit from the mouths of prophetic tongues engraved in ebony by the alchemists of olde. How shall I then stand? Clouded is my name and rancid is my spirit. O’ to rinse my bones in the river that flows . . . the River of No Return.
Posted on September 24, 2014, in poetry and tagged agreement, alchemists, bones, breath, death, dreams, flesh, hollow, predecessors, preys, prophetic tongues, reckoning, river, shadow dancers, smoke, spirit, summons, truth, witness. Bookmark the permalink. 1 Comment.