Sura

There is mine somewhere past that field
it used to bleed, ooze gold out of every corner
now it is dry
like my eyes
like my bones
bleached by the sun
where I have been left to unwind

tick tick tock
goes the clock in my head
winding down
winding up
may I gauge my compass
to seek attack instead of defence
on those who wish to harm

through the lights in the fields
I thou wish to see face
your face
thou eyes upon mine
forever dark they may be
greeting like old lovers