Earth and Stone

Set against the grace of glowing moon there lies a silent silhouette

Breath like life and form of man revealed by the heaving of the chest

All excess of motion and character consumed by quiet contemplation

A stance seen as that of self constrained and self proclaimed nobility

 

Whispered footfalls heavy on the hallowed ground

Hued mist slithers amongst the chiseled markers

Rodents on the flee from a presence most heinous

 

So at ease is his gait as he strolls between the quieted rows

Humming tunes, missing in the fragrance of black bouquets

Stretching out his new found limbs and testing new set bones

 

At last he reaches land devoid and turns to face the mounted monoliths

Slow and steady draws he breath as if he seeks to drink deeply of the night

With unbound grace does his body move to take a low and humble bow

 

The masked moon laying down its light by which he marks his central stage

Low burned candles set against the stones find source of new found flicker

And against the chill and dead of night is heard the silent strum of violin

 

With sudden strength he breaks his pose and lets forth with vicious dance

His every action bespoke of graceful torment as if each gesture were a wound

And yet with such conflicting prominence his lips cease not to smile

 

With subtle transformation his body takes new form as he falls to simple steps

Arms outstretched into the night he begins a lustrous and languid waltz

The notes upon the unseen violin gains in strength then slowly starts to fade

 

He dances out his final steps and then again he takes center stage

Formal and astute he gives bows his head in traditions of the old

And so he is reclaimed as his body slumps unto the earthen ground

Neither breath nor pulse again in this corpse to be found

 

By Richard Herring

(Age 18)