Desolate Orbis

The desolation, tensile.
No gathered twig or muddy earth to safeguard sorrows
bare feed dragging on golden needles
bleeding and butchered to the honeycomb bones.
I pass the monolith, the gaping hole
a lifetime of white noise, grey, nothing
to stretch my fleshy limbs to starry nights and the cruel topaz sea.
Fragments of light dapple memories
strawberry scented, discarded.
I see the monolith through the desert storm
Orbis Saecula.

5 thoughts on “Desolate Orbis

  1. Your writing is much in a classical melancholy that drew me to poetry and made me love it. Gorgeously written work


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