Obsidian Poem by Maurice Rowlands

Whisper to a ghost
That walks lonely through the lands
What in life was most important
That has slipped from your hands
That you're the last remaining heartbeat
Of a long lost civilisation
Buried beneath the sands
That the waters of the moon's last tide
Of an ocean that life has passed
Are washing over in turmoil
A single blade of obsidian
Left over from our final volcanic blast

Whisper to an echo
Into shadows that entice
What vision had most meaning
That has drifted from your eyes
That you're the last remaining breath
Of a long lost civilisation
Entombed in the ice
That the molten rock was thrust up
From the edges of our existence
Shattering and scattering
The blackest blades of obsidian
Left over from our final volcanic blast

Whisper to a thunderbolt
Up to skies you no longer trust
What dreams were never realised
Of life, of hope, of lust
That you're the last remaining thought
Of a long lost civilisation
Crumbled away to dust
That the forests that sustained us
Are now blackened lonely paths
Will our memories ever last
Or will they be devoured
By our final volcanic blast

Whisper to a flame
Of a world that's burned and blacked
Hieroglyph or relic
Codex or artefact
That you're the last word ever written
From a long lost Civilisation
With nothing left intact
Maybe one day we will come back
Searching Mother Earth at last
Treading barefoot and bloodied
Over the sharpest blades of obsidian
Left over from our final volcanic blast