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