Apr 20, 2009


In the shadowy alcoves of an age
withering into the crypt of time
crouch muffled specters
murmuring a fable
contrived in myriad forms
of ethereal sprites
in shimmering gossamer,
gory dragons roaring
with their blades now sheathed
in the awe of current time.

The coffers of heritage
bear testimony, crystal clear
to legacies bequeathed
of men burning the midnight oil
whose blood was shed on epic slabs
soaked dry
in time’s fading drought.

Surfing the leaves of history
sifting the dry parchment, beholds
between the icon and its shadow
an indictment slumbering
muted like the crushed dream
of a dumb child,
in retrospect swells
a portfolio of history
begotten from the past
with its remnants invading
existing time.

A heritage blows a trumpet
to the players of the past
endorsing their existence
on the pillars of time
as we the contemporary players
step into their footsteps
with a heart anchored in hope.

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