Elliot
Canto XVIII
A hand
The only other thing
In the world
We wander
Through this place
Where sounds die
Before they reach
Our ears
If even a few
Feet away
Shadows pulsate
As if living
Omnipotent darkenss
Could have a heart
Pumping unseen blood
Through unseen veins
All around us
This pulsing sensation
Like a drum
In the distance
Like a drum
In our ears
Is it just us?
A Life in Poems 