msdos@cs.mcgill.ca (Mark SOKOLOWSKI) (01/20/91)
Ten thousand times a hundred thousand dusty years ago, Where now extends the Plain of Gold did once my river flow. It stroked the stones and spoke in tongues ans splashed against my face Till ages rolled - the Sun shone cold on this unholy place. So many stars bedeck my skies, when once there were but few, But oh, to know again the clouds that hid them from my view. My ochred cliffs and rusted sands stand regal and serene, But oh, my wan and wasted world, I miss your blue and green. But it's just the weight of waiting, not a deathwatch o'er a friend. Tomorrow has a starting as does yesterday an end. For the water of my river and the air that was my wind, Though bound in rocks and wintry wastes, I pray may flow again. My ochred cliffs and rusted sands stand regal and serene, but oh, my wan and wasted world, I miss your blue and green. Mark S. (1991)