there lies tragedy
just beyond the hills
of stones that dot the
fields of the listless dead
*
whatever rest
that was promised
lays unslept
*
treacherous livingness
slithers hither and thither
and nibbles at the ashes
drying upon the waves
hurrying to capture
the soul that remains
trapped in the clutches
of its cursers
*
mercy be upon
all those who slumber
in the slighted hope
of idleness
intotheindigo 