Thirsting

image courtesy of Dreamtime

Emptied vault opens,

casts leavings of shriveled seeds

beyond redemption.

 

Between the edges

nothing could penetrate here,

wind, rain, tears—nothing.

 

Sound had no life here,

dying in small deaths of emptiness,

eternal silence.

 

A life damaged beyond

repair, encased by cold stone,

a life of shriveled seeds,

lived in a stone vault—

lightless, soundless

thirsting.

https://sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/2020/10/24/weekend-writing-prompt-180-vault/#comments

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