Out From the Drift

The events, that have led you into the drift, remain vague,

Stunned at the absence that crowds you, as a flutter

From the stinging bitterness of the swarming tundra

Causes a twinge, down the seam, of the fragile fabric,

You struggle, with the blurred recollection, violently dragged

Into the listless stray, and abandoned, as you proceed

In solitude, leaving you open to the bleak, still silence

Of a constant stream, afloat, here in this winter desert,

Straining to clarify what’s embedded within the pouring mist,

You slowly crouch, below the constant stream

And notice a crow, perched above, stretching its beak apart,

Expecting it to echo a screech, but this hush stays intact,

Hidden, in the thick darkness hovering atop the contrast

Is the hunter, and you, their paranoid, panicking prey,

Softly, does this stealthy pursuer glide through the desolation

Never losing sight of you, while you wonder inside your rattle,

Trying to discover the path, beneath the iron curtain,

You seek blindly, unaware of the sinking ground

Below the weary traipse, of a lost, rusted anchor,

Amused by your fatigue, the stalker readies the attack,

Tightening the spread, quietly, with precise patience,

Oblivious and still, you follow your own exhalation

To prove to yourself, of your own, beating existence,

It’s time, to challenge the draught, but where is the well,

And now, here I stand, above my fading martyr,

You’ve always lived in the drift, escaping my persistence

For far too long, until this night, when you gazed upon silent death,

Only I can hear its shrill voice, calling to me, my hound,

It’s a pity how memory can fade, and vanish from the freeze,

Finally now, the drift is completely vacant and abandoned,

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While the Apocalypse Comes

The static came in, as they huddled
Around each other, and for once, the world
Felt hollow, and time had lost its hold on them,
While it all bleeds out, and simultaneously, Everything seemed to turn stone,
Medusa’s stare being this eclipse
The world is entranced by, except
For the two that hid themselves
Inside each others unstable island,
Bracing the edge, as the deafening boom Eviscerates every crumbled rock,
They purge every last drop of themselves
Into what could sleep undisturbed
In the spider’s web, while the wave reaches
Out for them, to swallow their world
Designed to fall with the rest, they hold on
Fighting off what can’t be ignored, just to store
Every freckle she has, especially
When she smiled at him, before it faded,
The static became louder,
The still of them torn apart from its keep,
The eclipse enveloped every breath,
Every beetle that made marks here,
All that lasted was the wasteland, void
Of any bloom, but the drop dripped
From the web, soaking the dry earth.

Afterburn

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A soldier in the field,
Crunching through the charred greens
Of a world buried beneath the inferno,
The ashes of a home
Swim at the soldiers feet,
He bows down beneath the wind
To pick up a burnt childhood,
As dreams break away in pieces,
He carries what’s left to the burning tree
And just before he tosses it in,
An offspring of nature
Distracts the soldier from falling erosion,
Wings carry hope to the wounded soil.