For visually challenged writers, the image shows an opening between boulders, through which a rocky plateau can be seen, half hidden by mist.
Speak of Us
Green grey boulders
Washed together by an ancient ice melt
A great place to sit and meditate
Through the small window to the world outside
Mist rolling in towards me
What hides behind, teasing my mind?
Do I step from the safety of the solid walls?
To venture, to answer the voice calling
Are the words only in mind?
We need your help.
I hear the beating of wings as the mist clears
I see her, the black dog standing beside her
Come no further, lest you be lost
To a land long forgotten
Angels, heroes, long fallen into dust
They speak of us no longer
We are fading as the mist
Where so few feel us linger
Waiting to be remembered
Do you recognise the black dog?
Do you know who he once walked beside?
We ask that you speak of us
Tell them we live in the mist
If one would give voice, we can be called back…