Wednesday, June 12, 2013

Pilgrims to the Hidden City

How once those cities shone high in the gloom,
As patient embers...yes. A muted furnace for many souls.

What comfort came to the hearts of the pilgrims
When they saw far off the glittering collective, and knew peace.

But now the hidden city is lost again. 
Perhaps it is buried in dust, and the fiery domes are cracked.

Or perhaps it waits over the next rise,
Or in the shadow of that sneering mountain, or in the basin of some dry sea.

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