Slow time still flows
By night
The patient stars align
Their sigils constant, their patterns known
They draw ripples 'cross the stone
Fifty million years wide
A molten tide
Hills rise up, hills erode
I see your face made strange
Pain accrued in substrate waves
That on your brow broke
Like subduction; like undertow
Your world quakes, your world erodes
And as the dawn breaks
In shadow I wait
For your shape to be exposed
Comments (0)