Aeons

 

Through the ancient landscape,
dust did slurry songs, calling
through the smooth, rubbed
hills – beckoning us on.

Scrabbled were the eucalypts,
raddled were the stones,
sucking heat from destiny as
demons danced and sang.

Footsteps fell in slow silence,
dressed in powdered years,
drawing through the soil unknown,
truths the heart could feel.

Bequeathed in endless images,
stories trailed through earth,
clay clenched drowning water –
painted face and breasts.

Distant was the inner yearning,
mournful was time’s cry,
joyful was life’s great promise-
no sound, but sandy sighs.

Lost in aching age of meaning,
driven deep beyond the cities,
so we walk with shuttered eyes,
curse and bless as we do grieve.

Through the ancient landscape,
back out beyond fear and dreams,
world’s soul beats in rhythm-
truth licks lips and seals.

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About rosross

Editor, writer, poet.
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