Sea of Glass

Sea of Glass

Adrift on a silent sea of glass
The merciless sun beats down;
Eyes strain for a distant mast,
Skin dry, cracked, burnt brown.

Life hangs by a tenuous thread.
That the game of war hath wrought.
Unto the land of the cold and dead;
all those whose souls have fought.

They call from darkened shores.
The last vestige of hope stolen;
Longings of solace in the Moores.
My lips and eyes now swollen.

Fate itself, lays in the balance.
Courage and victory are fleeting;
Land but a mirage in the distance,
before my eyes, slowly retreating.

On this sea of glass alone I ride;
In a perpetual state of calm.
On oaken plank, in plain sight I hide;
From the shores of swaying palms.

Ghosts call me as darkness falls;
They lure me away from the light.
The screaming wretched voices call
from deepest Hell and darkest night.

No more shall I see the grass.
Nor see a sunrise brighten the morn;
Forsaken to this sea of glass.
Eyes dead and forever forlorn.

© Copyright 2005 T.L.Finch (UN: t.l.finch at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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