The Eighth Unwritten Ballad Poem by Paul Hartal

On the dark lake of the unplumbed
Mixed with the orchestrated arias of winds
The eighth unwritten ballad floats.
Somnolent sparks coruscate
In ethereal tints
Gutta-percha words struggle and wither
Tired syllables reverberate
Chocolate sounds stretch and gather
Marvel in the sunshine
Collapse, unfold and mingle.
As remote tambourines jingle
Eight seagulls fly in a curved line
Like pilgrims in the formless stratum
Of the unknown.