When heart of me be despot,
Solation overwhelms my serbonian mind.
On shoal of sand I take me there,
To lie in tamarisk bed of natures hand.
With tearful sighs and wave’d cries
I listen to the tread of Minoan feet
Then linger there in storied state,
My eyelids torn by armies stood at yonder gate.
A lucid lullaby dances then on trilobite shores.
And spirit is no more awash with hearts resort.
For still, invisible forces may me rest.
That I might once again be filled with awe.
Copyright © Keith Drew | Year Posted 2006
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