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To every season
There is a dim fire
lit behind reptilian eyes
cold like the dawn
biting like the wind.
Come and come
grown beyond the seasons need
tasting bitter
biting back.
Hear me? Hear ME!
Darkness eats the echos.
Strong men wither,
driven forth into the wilding future.
None shall discern
madness from truth
or seeds from a rotting tooth.
Sometimes
"Darkness eats the echoes." The poet who made the sound that reverberated and vanished is still vibrant and making noise yet. Where'd ya go?
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Time to write again. If you plant a seed under a filling, will one reap plaque and calcium fruit? Just wondering? :D