I stand on the crest
of the hill, overlooking the sea...crashing, crashing; waves; come unto
me..!! The wind replies; distinct sounds...a rumble, a whistle, screeches
and howls! Limbs crack, snap, calling me back. My soul, my soul!
The old house hears,
yes it hears; to speak, to groan and then a moan, an echo to be sure, to a
voice: Is anyone home!? The old house beckons, destruction appears,
the waves cannot sway; Come here, come near, nearer, and I will speak: Out
of my way!
My foot slips and
slides, catching a branch, breaking the fall. Close, closer, almost
there; waves sigh: Almost, almost caught, almost to die!
Streaming, screaming,
howls the wind: Do not touch the soul’s dead skin! Numbing, numbed
by cold, long lost the sounds, the winds of old. Buried deep, deeply into
the sea; waiting, watching, harkening: Come unto me!
Slivers of ice,
broken, sharp, drop from the sky; winds take the twisted, driving them down and
down…drawing lines in the sky, pockmarked designs: Everyone pines.
Wind, oh wind look
how it sales; look up, look up, glancing arrows, frozen air, sling them
aside: Speak into the crowd: No wailing aloud!
Little did I know, the
earth drew, sucked in the fire, little did I know the flames drew without tire.
How did I know, why would I care? Only you can speak the words I
desire; only you would know; only you can share.
Scraps of skin cling
to the shards; I walk away, feet into yards; the temptress may be stalking, I'm
blind and cannot see. Step back; step back, away from the sea.
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