The hour of stones
Time for hailstorms
The night is dancing frenzied
In the sky
Each star falls on stones
The stones bury the trees
The leaves lose themselves
In stones
The river of the hills
Falls on stones
The words grate
Impaled on stones
Sounds and echoes bristle
The hour of stones
In insensate time
In the portal of the Promised Land
Awe-struck exhaustion
In the clamour of the spheres
Countless pledges are denied
Stones are lightning strikes
Stones are a glasshouse
The entire world of mute living
Is hungry stones
This hour of hailstorms, insensate,
Weighs heavy indeed.
***
©hridayanan
H