The Sun of Devoured Sound
A burning orb of copper and of lead,
It hangs within a sky of bruised plum;
The living world is quiet as the dead,
For every voice and every bird is dumb.
It drinks the thunder of the summer rain,
And swallows up the hunter’s hollow cry;
The roar of lions on the golden plain,
Is pulled into the vacuum of the sky.
A mother whispers to her sleeping child,
But only silence meets her moving lips;
The music of the forest, once so wild,
Is lost within the solar heat’s eclipse.
The universe is heavy, thick, and still,
Beneath the hunger of a quiet will.
No comments:
Post a Comment