Mystique
An agefull timeless sunless sea,
Is here beneath the mountains deep,
As still and cold as snow-clad peaks,
Its weight is rest on rock and stone,
In basin cleft, o’er hillside scree!
In burnished indigo, it sleeps,
The hand of time has swept its face
A million times and leaves no trace,
Here times great echo,
And silent tales,
Not mankind’s fearful raucous rage,
Here passing day is not pursued,
In peace suffused indigo blue.
© Joe Maverick 12-7-2009
29-8-2010
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