I walk and sit among the stones.
Their dusty, yellow hue stares up at me.
You cannot see,
But I watch shallow tones
That engulf me,
And seep into my bones.
I lose my mind in the stream of thoughts.
The frailty of the dust spurns me,
And I would flee,
If I could untie knots
Of nerves. Yet I can see
Them twist within my bones,
And stick. A castle of sand and stones
(A faulty clay), soon you must wash to sea.
I will not be
There, droning sullen moans
That assault me,
and cut into my bones.
I walk alone and sigh;
A castle looks down to see me,
and pity.
Or perhaps it is floods of amour you've forced dry?
I cannot see,
And God knows best the meaning of a sigh.
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