this season’s rain
comes to me like angels
striking bronze drums.
pre-iron age staccato
striking old rhythms
still looking for answers
from so long ago
eons pass but the struggle,
the same. purposely, i ask
questions without answers.
answers aren’t resolution,
only skeletons of desire.
metallic artifacts buried in silt.
2 comments:
*sigh* that was SO lovely!
*impressed smile.....*
you are making me blush! heheh ; )
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