Cradles that Rocks~by Norman Wilson

 

 

Cradles that Rocks

 

There is a world shapeless in edge of light
Hurled into black pitch falling
In endings of cradles that are rocking at night
Where darkness comes forth, a calling

Listen to the drums beating, forever beating
Where the frosty winds dark
Never passing yet never ceasing, to be
Where sounds of reckoning brandish a last mark

Run from the infernal link, run into the lost
Twice burning on the tepidness of winds
Quartered in the harvester’s gloom of thy loss
Wilting away in shadows tempered within

Silence is now tapping into an empty black
A black universe where the harvester has gone
Where nothing lives in a deadening hush
From passing’s of an old melancholy song

Twigs singed in cinders falling on remnants of earth
Where barren lands, are chalked in blacken rot
For the harvester has come for cradles that rock
Before the sounds outside the door of lost thoughts

There are no more undertones upon the storms
There are no saviours when the harvester breathes
Erasing the whole world of earth and sea
When the cradle’s finally stands still in an empty breeze

All rights reserved 12/21/15
Borman Francis