On a brazen shore In southern Alabama Thousands of years ago Where false idols fell In a barren waste By a rocky cairn By a boat's dried ruins By a sun-bleached skull There washed the waves Of a long dead storm Which spilt the blood Of a kinder soul Than any now walked That wilted beach With greasy kelp And slimy fishheads When a ray of sun Broke the clouds' dark pallor And a child walked free For a moment. It was a start. Beginning of the end. End of the beginning. The death of death.
Last updated: 29 Mar 1994
Copyright 1989, 1994 Miles O'Neal, Austin, TX. All rights reserved.
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This copyright may be freely used, distributed and modified subject to the conditions noted above in the preceeding paragraph. Miles O'Neal <roadkills.r.us@XYZZY.gmail.com> [remove the "XYZZY." to make things work!] c/o RNN / 1705 Oak Forest Dr / Round Rock, TX / 78681-1514