rhythms sang low..
dirges echoing amid common yet unknown tongues.
constant darkness.. engulfs our own darkness
as we traverse a blue tear.
voices from the lower hold become tom-toms
for they have more reasons to despair..
putrid air..
a belly full of death..
perhaps the end of a lineage.
hymnal tones sang low
amid souls longing for the violet..
the juniper..
the slightest familiarity..
to come forth and carry them home.
instead.. we are watched.. closely
for more sing the same song now
our blood..
our sweat..
our tears..
forms this 'blue' tear.
their fear is perhaps.. our resolve
for it runs as deep as the passage made of tears
and a stride faster than those
who would bind us.
rythms sang low
descernible not only to those who
have traversed the tear
but the tom-tom voices that sing
from the bowels of vessels.. or the depths
of the tear.. to perhaps awaken the lineage
that survived the traversing of the 'blue' tear
|