Throes of Silence

Light leftover in the throes of silence...
The bile of thought digesting dreams of decay.
Forgotten words spoken by screams of paroxysm.

Giants used to walk here,
seeking the life of the prophet.
Stones, thrown down, gather,
Filling the entirety of the world.

Power is defined by poetic accuracy...
lifting burdens of pain from mute minds.
Forgotten words erased by the oil of fingertips.



[21:27|10.5.012] ©c.thomas.carter