Saturday, October 20, 2012

the unread book




a flower, a branch, a bird, a cloud
a book not to be read aloud
a life that passes in an hour
a winding stair in a ghostly tower

a laughing child, a shuddering sage
the dream of a forgotten age
a lizard on a moss grown crypt
a poem in an unknown script

o wanderer, the day is done
look as the disappearing sun
casts a light on the darkened sea
for what has been will no longer be

what has been written will not be read
the living will no more mock the dead
the rain will fade into the sand
and darkness hold all in its hand



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