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
God’s dream.
Don’t 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.