The h2g2 Poem
Created | Updated Oct 27, 2004
Truck #37
Forgotten paper pictures
caught against a
hot spring melt.
The blackness of shadow
not near enough,
close enough to pain.
Disappearing consequences
have yet to cleanse
disembodied voices yet to fade.
Burnt in the eyes
gone in ash and wind
a whirlwind of embers.
To be left to some
and not right to others
less to even fewer.
A likening to
tunnels of white
and gossamer wings.
Sweated worlds
and curious murmurs,
tangling in time.
Past stones falling,
hardened rain washing down
charcoaled memories.
