Tuesday, December 13, 2011


gnarled and haggard
piled high
with dry and fallen years
a rasping prayer
a flame stilled
in cupped hands
streams past Aldeberon
all the galaxies beyond

threads of flame
on whisper wing
intercourse on golden string
time to timeless
vast cathedral throne
where stainglass history reigns

from hillside shack
of weathered wood
unpainted grey
an old man prays
upon a book
about a rock

the wind
are still
but for the ticking
of a clock

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