The eye seeks a desert
The anchorite sits, pensive
Thought encumbered
Pillars of cracked rock and
The catarrhs of coarse winds
The bleached bone offerings
Of before
And the deeply rumbled promises
Of gyre and firmament
The eye drowns and
Time is nothing
No more than the lines etched
In the sand of ancient sea beds
Where lie old dreams of caverned
Maws and light in gulfing void
No more than the enervating
Waters which hold the murmured
Whisper of desolation
Of a great eye that has never blinked
No more than cities
In the dust of time
Thresholds carved in cliffs
And somber faces etched in stone
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