This poem makes you stop and think.
Bequeathed in endless images,
stories trailed through earth,
clay clenched drowning water –
painted face and breasts.
Distant was the inner yearning,
mournful was time’s cry,
joyful was life’s great promise-
no sound, but sandy sighs.
Lost in aching age of meaning,
driven deep beyond the cities,
so we walk with shuttered eyes,
curse and bless as we do grieve.
Through the ancient landscape,
back beyond our fear and dreams,
world’s soul beats in rhythm-
truth licks lips and seals.
Dark Side of the Moon 