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The eye seeks a desert

The anchorite sits, pensive

Thought encumbered

Pillars of cracked rock and

The catarrhs of coarse winds

The bleached bone offerings

Of before

And the deeply rumbled promises

Of gyre and firmament

The eye drowns and

Time is nothing

No more than the lines etched

In the sand of ancient sea beds

Where lie old dreams of caverned

Maws and light in gulfing void

No more than the enervating

Waters which hold the murmured

Whisper of desolation

Of a great eye that has never blinked

No more than cities

In the dust of time

Thresholds carved in cliffs

And somber faces etched in stone