All march forth to find the place

where the Earth gives up her secrets

Then with bare hands they dig in to the soft clay

Exposed secrets written in coded tongue

spell out the fate of those who dig

in letters they will never learn to read

Even if the prayer were written in the clouds

their blind eyes would gaze skyward

and preach to the masses of what they saw

witnesses to the grandest secret of them all

written in the spaces between fading stars

that writhe in the haze of an atmosphere

slowly choking away all hope of escape

even as desire grounds the worthy to a place of rest

Strange thing to point out, perhaps, but today’s photo is the first that I’ve used on this blog from a photographer whose name begins with the letter ‘Q’. Thank you Quino Al!

Photo by Quino Al on Unsplash

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