Silent Grave

the silent grave swept clean by time, knowing only the wind that undresses the night. the eyes of an owl, dead branches walking... moonlight and darkness thrust and parry, and dance. the smell of damp earth, the kingdom of spider and snail... moss and vines wrapped around the throat of time... no footprints, no memories, no flapping of wings.... the unnamed hand covers all trace, all thought.... all that which was urgent, eternal... of universal need... becomes small and insignificant... in the silent grave!