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Hieroglyph 12
Hieroglyph 12
We formed ourselves from the immiscible waters of creation
And we are
A second order allegory of our own existence
A troubled dream
An ironic pause in eternity's reconciliation.
From what impersonal womb have we entered this world to work our fates and perish in time
And what is the word that was spoken but has now ceased its somber reverberation
There is a mystery here
But one that has vanished in its own darkness.
Lightning sears the parched hills
The dusk brings no rain.
Previously Published
© John A. Youril
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