That’s society back there; behind me.
They don’t matter.
Words whirlwind with the wind
And I let the darkness pour in--from butt littered curb
I see the beauty in this dying earth
Fire dances ‘cross mountain top;
Green lights of man fade red. Flash yellow.
Clouds whisk and serpentine; moon glistens on naked pines
These winks in time, tricks of the mind
That’s the beauty.
That’s sorrow’s crime,
Because society is back there
A few feet away
And they do matter. |
Submission Name: Listening to silence die
