Steve Taunton


Journey East

As the blazing sun sinks away behind us, so the furies
We flee shrink to specks on our minds’ horizon.
Dryness parches our lips as we drift from the river;
Our teeth grind on the desert dust.
In the hour between dusk and moonlight
The desert’s emptiness chills our hearts.

Dusk, then darkness, and our thoughts grow cold;
Imagined lies speak—our journey has been foolishness;

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