The Song of Silent Cicadas

“I dream of dying daffodils
On a wave of my broken, favourite hills
Where I as child had once laid claim
When I knew myself by my name”

“But these ages have not been kind to me
I was fettered but asked to spell as free
Promised monuments; I was given a moment
To count salt that slept in the bed of sea”

“Oh, how I wept and leapt like Sisyphus’s stone
Known to all just by being unknown
I was placed all high but without a head
I survived it all by playing dead”

“And thus now we come to an end
This poem breaks where all stories bend
As no more of life will come my way
I give away that, for which I pray”