* * * * *
Mist Shadow whispers
over the lake.
We walk together
through the endless forest
Listening.
Thousands of tiny frantic fiddles
play sad music.
Delirious with the vision
we lie down
amidst the rocks and leaves.
We sleep
dreaming of wild symphonies
and moons swimming
through secret clouds.
Drunkenly
We stumble
toward the void.
* * * * *
(c)1997 Marie L. Nemir
THE END OF THE WORLD by Marie L. Nemir