The Old Ones
© 2013 - Lanty Wylie
I set and wonder, I feel the echo
that resonates through the cold night.
Somewhere there sleeps Horus.
Shush, make not a sound,
the great eye of Ra sleeps.
Do Gods dream of eons gone by, but never
of what might have been?
The soft splash of an oar to ferry another soul
to the Godís dream.
Donít wake the old ones; breathe in hushed silence,
all Gods not disturbed are the best dream.
Turn, pull the covers up, let the cold wind blow;
pray the footsteps are not for you.