a lifeless desert
holds the ancient tribes’
forgotten script
in a sequence
time scatters the rhymes
of our story’s lines
can we perceive
the shattered letters,
the messages sent?
innocent,
though back in time;
is it now forgiven?
we sail toward fairyland
without a map,
the compass made of stars
Written on Haiku Heights' 1/5/2013 theme of "script"
Year:
2013
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