Where Gods Sleep – a poem

Worshipping the mad grandeur

Inherent to melancholy, laughter

Of kinds without end, scritch

Scratch the fingernails on

Wall hangings resting, majesty

In the quiet wastelands.

*

Skies that draw on minds

Dry without water’s touch,

Slaked by whispered words

Found winding between dunes

In this land where gods come

To sleep, statues standing.

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