2023.05.07
- Craig Van Ravens
- May 7, 2023
- 1 min read
Updated: Aug 16, 2023
On sea salted hill wind whips my face,
Under soil are lives, beyond stone is warmth.
Rumours lie deep, thoughts shallow of airy endeavour.
When I think, I hear earth crack, as I slumber, it rocks.
Within its timeless tales are my key,
Outside is frit and bare as freedom.
A peaceful song, a lark on,
Way to way, pass to pass,
In its shadow is a task,
By its weight have I bent,
In its tomb will I’ve lain.