Treading on the fallen echoes
                      of silence that no
                   longer tread on the
              ground, only imprints
             of what was yesterday.

There was a stead, rag and bones
                      showing its last gasp.
                         falling silent before
                         its unrested silence.
Now white tombs show its resting.



Nothing else matters,
                only the wind sings between
                its memory, chimes of agony
                through hollow moments now
                remember its cruel resting place.