Monday, August 13, 2012

Shadows, and the land of Prophets-

There are stealthily creeping shadows
within the silences of my lips
a sense of ocean
filling the smallest cut
that love makes on me.

I live withering
like a cloud
on the perfect blue skies
the sunshine resplendent,
plays with the crevices of my moist body

I have but two eyes
and no sense of smell
so I see without feeling.

To the overwhelming weight of the parched land
that dies with every falling sun-ray
I drop to save the broken sands
but I break am a breeze
and fill the dead-body of earth with few breaths.

I sigh
and for her my land, my love
I become
the broken staircase
to netherworld.

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