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Rated: E · Poetry · Inspirational · #973995
Native American compares this life to a barren, dying desert.
This land lies barren,
stripped of life the dust of the past
settled on the
plains of misfortune.
The seasons of renewal
linger in passing,
but a moment...
The hard, encrusted
heart of earth
hungry, devours words
like rain
As they fall from the
mouth of the sky.
Desert winds
blow stronger,
blinding with a sigh
As the cold night
closes around the day.
moonless, starless,
the nether climes
now devoid of light's soft glow.
The rain that once sustained
burns my soul
My spirit cries to be free
To hear, no more,
the words that roar like thunder
as the Laughing God plays with the lives
of mortal man.
It is time,
It is time,
To leave this earth
The work is done
life is lived
the love that was once an oasis
has shriveled up and died
like the bleached bones
of a distant memory.
Open your arms
sweet earth
that we may become one
deep within the bowels of
Xibalba.







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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/973995-Dust-of-The-Past