Friday, November 18, 2005

Zelazny's Rose

A Rose for Ecclesiastes, by Roger Zelazny, is one of the finest short stories I have ever read. This is my attempt to evoke just a trace of the magic.

Mars is ancient, red. The singing dust
entombs untenanted halls
left red mirrors stained with rust.

Long barrenness had curdled Martian lust.
I knew no better than to fall
in love. Ancient need abused young trust.

Words in the wind's empty undying voice
I spoke on sacred ground,
unmade their empty, dying choice--
but left my vanity uncrowned,
my singing changed to barren curdled noise
in ancient red dust drowned.

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