Tuesday, December 25, 2007

Coast of Dreams

An island of barren stone
hangs hard by a fertile shore
that teems with color and life.
Sadly the grey stones wept:
"Woe to the uninhabited,
forever condemned to loneliness!
What sin was mine, that I sorrow
alone in this ocean of darkness?

Sister, of your generosity
give me a few of your children,
I beg."

"Airless and waterless, old barren stone
how can you ask such a thing?
I will not send my sons to starvation
my daughters to die in your cold arms."

Sadly the grey stones wept.

Came a host of furious fancies
led by a man with a burning spear.
"We need no water nor air,
nor food nor soil to grow in,
only the dark and the silence
only the furnace-roar of the sun.
We are dreams. We need space."

Gladly the grey stones embraced them:
the black-coated mare with steel hooves
the white-coated man with the razor
the clown with the painted grin
the butterflies half-turned to cancers
and all of their kin. On the stone shore
among their cities and harbors
the grey stones echo their voices.
Listen close.


Linda said...

Wow, this brought so many ideas to mind. I've read it a couple times and love all the images!

GoGo said...

I like how it felt like a story and I needed to know its end. I felt for those stones.


tumblewords said...

Mystical thoughts...how quickly the voices are relegated to nothing. Good read!