I am a sentinel ~ poet of stone.
Standing apart ~ standing alone.
I do not ****** ~ no toast from a glass.
I do not think ~ about things of the past.
I am no wooden flute~ played with lightness and ease,
My breathing on earth ~ has long ago ceased.
I'm no longer able ~ to hear and to talk,
But, when I move ~ YOU WILL HEAR ME WALK
I'm not man or woman ~ I'm not boy or girl
I no longer see ~ with the eyes of this world.
I cannot touch ~ and I cannot feel
But I can exist ~ I assure you, I'm real.
I'm on an Easter island ~ a massive stone head
All those who made me ~ are long ago dead.
I am the likeness ~ of their greatest god
But they're all gone now ~ isn't that odd?
Those great stone carvings ~ a metaphor be
Those silent stones ~ are actually ME.
Repost
Soul Survivor
Catherine Jarvis
(C) 2014
The stone heads of Easter island are a reminder
To us all of the facts of nature. The natives who
Erected them were using up all their natural
Resources. They believed if they kept carving
The likeness of their god the natural world
Would be replenished. It didn't work. And,
Eventually, they all died off.