Poems by Themis

The Rune

There is a memory that has no tune,

No shape for sense or ear or eye,

A lonely thing, an age-old rune,

Carved on the blue rocks of the sky.

When all our murmuring memories pass,

Drifting across the seas of time,

Winds of earth-loves among the grass,

Adream with vibrant song and rhyme;

Within the Silence shall unfold

The magic of the runic scroll,

The characters of sun-burnt gold,

Chiselled in fire upon the soul.

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