The Coming of Strange Beasts

Feed my soul the pieces of a shattered sky

The sweetwater stars like funeral wine

paint visions of ruin across the empty night

until the bottle runs dry

All the lights of sacred places come crawling

a slow exaltation in the coming of strange beasts

out of the earth and sky and lost beneath the sea

reaching out to touch a fragile thing

The last star burning in a dessicated world

thirsts for the cold weather rain

Rivers of life have gone out into the hidden places

to wait for a sign of the final leaving

and maybe they’ll wait forever

while the dunes grow tall and desolate

and the world’s new masters gorge themselves on memory

Strange times call for strange actions.

Image by Patricia Alexandre from Pixabay

14 thoughts on “The Coming of Strange Beasts

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