Consumed in the fields of wheat
In slumber concealed
Miniscule regions revealed
Only high flying birds can detect
In these fields of wheat that sway
Accordingly the winds direction
Determines the course of the flow
These stalks will serve as bread
To feed the living dead
But not before I have endeavored
To dream upon it in my sleep
Until then the wheat will keep
It will remain silent and accept
My presence as if though
A strange growth of chaff
That thrives within the wheat
Walking about to and fro
Seeking whom it may devour
~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
No comments:
Post a Comment