There sandy seems the golden sky,
& Golden seems the sandy plain.
No habitation meets the eye
Unless in the horizon rim
Some halfway up the limestone wall,
That spot of black is not a stain
Or shadow, but a cavern hole,
Where someone used to climb & crawl
To rest from his besetting fears.
I see the callus on his soul
The disappearing last of him
And of his race starvation slim,
Oh years ago __ ten thousand years….
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