The hole embraces the box
chadwick
Posts: 21,157
An evaporated sunset casts only hallow vague moon shadows this night
Roosting owls are in the nearby distance of several great oaks and cedar trees
Fireflies are sprinkled through the night air
They are the only peaceful energy that lingers here, the only beauty
Stars are rare and empty
Black consumes the sky and down to this place of underground rest
Unlived wrought-iron closes in
Cathedral bells centuries old still ring but never seen
Beyond the bells that toll are vacant eyes from grayed out images
Hovering, a wind like object bends open to be seen and felt
This is loneliness at its best
Where do they go, where are they from
Working are lanterns swaying through the night
Some carry shovels and pickaxes for the digging of yet another passing
Oh those crying owls again, they feel and fill silent tears
Becoming vacant are not only the diminishing gardens but the soon to be breathless
And yet granite carvings are brilliant talent singing under such conditions of gloom
This song matches note for note from that of the great owls’ musical contract with the night
Figures, three of them in blackened cloaks encircle for vigilance
These are the worker of the hole
Roosting owls are in the nearby distance of several great oaks and cedar trees
Fireflies are sprinkled through the night air
They are the only peaceful energy that lingers here, the only beauty
Stars are rare and empty
Black consumes the sky and down to this place of underground rest
Unlived wrought-iron closes in
Cathedral bells centuries old still ring but never seen
Beyond the bells that toll are vacant eyes from grayed out images
Hovering, a wind like object bends open to be seen and felt
This is loneliness at its best
Where do they go, where are they from
Working are lanterns swaying through the night
Some carry shovels and pickaxes for the digging of yet another passing
Oh those crying owls again, they feel and fill silent tears
Becoming vacant are not only the diminishing gardens but the soon to be breathless
And yet granite carvings are brilliant talent singing under such conditions of gloom
This song matches note for note from that of the great owls’ musical contract with the night
Figures, three of them in blackened cloaks encircle for vigilance
These are the worker of the hole
for poetry through the ceiling. ISBN: 1 4241 8840 7
"Hear me, my chiefs!
I am tired; my heart is
sick and sad. From where
the sun stands I will fight
no more forever."
Chief Joseph - Nez Perce
"Hear me, my chiefs!
I am tired; my heart is
sick and sad. From where
the sun stands I will fight
no more forever."
Chief Joseph - Nez Perce
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Comments
I like this.
although i do feel a little "creepy" right about now!