Pat Gunn (dachte) wrote,
Pat Gunn
dachte

Life with Roses

Title's just random.

A desert valley. The sands have blown for millenia, the rocks slowlycontributing to their games. The sun continues to gift the land far morethan it can take, a fair trade carried out too long. Now it sips vitalitylike a straw, and has slurped until there is nothing left. There is nolife -- even the bacteria that were omnipresent are no more. Tall, thinstatues, just elongated heads, like easter island, sit, watching eternity.

And then, the skies contribute a tiny gift. A drop falls. As it plummetsto earth, it passes through air that has known no motion for ages. It touchesthe sand, and is gone. Another drop, tiny missle, is released and fliestrue to the ground. The eighth drop was not alone -- it and the ninth cametogether, and reconvened deep in the soil. And then, the fifteenth drop falls.It does not strike the ground. It instead strikes the forehead of a statue.With no sound at all, white, milky eyes open, and survey the land.

I would write more, but my cat is licking the deodorant container on mydesk. Weird imagery, eh?

Anyhow, it's up to you to interpret this entry. I might interpret for youlater, it depends.

I am, however, in a good mood.

Tags: poetry
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