Continuance

Pull down the shade
so I can tell you the tale
of whispers made
in the undergrowth
under bellies of rocks
damp in the earth
against the ticking of clocks.

I am not so strong
to tell little lies,
to stumble over wrong
lilies in my path
and wander the fields
to expose my wrath
of ever presence.

The key is gold,
lies past the horizon
shines the old
where outside my reach
it plies with shouts
forbidden to teach
and forlorn gasps.

I have not wept
Upon the plateau,
never have slept
but for each day begun
I run with the fear
and let what happen
be the circle.

As with my dreams,
end in dead gray
lost to things
of the stutters mind
to be finally alive
as it were unkind
I must continue.

� 2000 DPMcClellan