lmnopoeia

And just like that it’s over.  Dead.  The dreams the hopes.

With things said and words spoken the times are here; are changing; are clear; and when the dust softly settles on the ground – like the snowflakes on this quiet mild winter day – the secrets uncovered will speak volumes.  Murmers will whisper their solitude; silence will speak of the tyranny over it; like a shroud; or a cloud; or a dark soft fog that rolls in too slowly to cause alarm.  But alarm!  Everyone must be notified.  Note that this is just as they had said.  And said!  Thus this is where it’s at.  This is how it’s gonna be.  The clouds thunder; the thunder clouds.  The silence is threatened; the tyrants regret. And this is the beginning.  Merely the beginning.  Because all that once came before is gone, so an end it is not.  Born anew this time so much better.  Born to be broken though shinny and polished.  Here it is now the sun a cometh.  Here the dawn of a dawnless day; nor sets the sun under shroud of cold clouds; just grey through the sky and in the minds and in the hearts.

The tide rises.

The shallow water deepens; the sound widens.  As the straight narrows; beyond the next turn turns straight.  And on the heights the hawks glide and during the lows the population crumbles.  This is how it is, how it was, and how it will be.  Twenty thousand years a way of life undisturbed – thence the great upheaval; redundant radicalization during radical redundancy.  All the while, those who waited were left out in the stillness of the night.  Too much time had passed; unabbreviated lengths of sands and rivers running on and on.

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