Where Prayers Go to Die

Unheard, or unanswered?

Does it matter now?

Their prayers lifted high in tender faith,

were shattered by the godfist in derisive mockery.

 

The eyes close,

the grip weakens,

the sight fades,

and the breath grows shallow,

 

and they are free.

 

But the gods are not where they’re going

And the river is black and cold

 

They can have no vessel of silver

They’ll receive no provision of gold

 

And stone by stone,

the ghosts tear the walls

apart,

For they are a part

of nothing,

having become

everything.

 

Standing among the ruins,

 

they mourn their dreams,

and in the gathering light of dawn,

they dissipate once more

 

And the whispered susurration

of fervid entreaty once more

forms the misty morning veil

around the broken walls

where prayers go to

die.

 

Author: smithaw50

I live in NJ. Concentrating now on a getting a full time writing career started. Glad you could be with me on the journey. Ready? Here we go...

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