Eye Of The Furnace - Poem by Robert Dummett
In the root, agony -
With vastness of emptiness......
Some life this,
If they but knew,
If they could taste humidity
On an early morn and feel flames
Of hell scorching soles,
Searing nostrils with each breath
Drawn in a swirl of steam,
And black bin-liners, moving, panting,
Searching to surrender.
No mercy here, for the gods
Left town long ago,
Only the elements live:
Sea, sand, wind.
Camel, ship of the desert,
Struggles to stay afloat,
Exhausted palm trees bend like question marks
Drawing dregs of moisture fading fast,
And shutters roll up exposing
God's blood-shot eye,
Like some Cyclops
Awaken from some giant sleep.
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