Those Little Silver Things
Running through the forest on feet of clay
wet to the skin claiming every animal heartbeat
as my own
imbued in soil thirsting like a wolf
the goatskin drum beats, on and on
Wild berries and wild boars,
a mystical sun pulsing like an escutcheon badge
shielding my heart
I savor each moment, as if it were my last tryst
with destiny ;
Cupping the earth with my bare hands I inhale
the ironed nickel with all its liquid outer core
Night arrives and as those little silver things jostle
in the sky, fighting for their right to be light
I race, rush and hurry onward
while the goatskin drum beats, on and on and on.
By: Mystic Rose April 13, 2022
Copyright © Mystic Rose Rose | Year Posted 2022
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