|Hallowed Ground (standard:poetry, 220 words)|
|Author: Unsun||Added: Nov 19 2000||Views/Reads: 2142/0||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|I never understood sanctity|
The ground is fertile. The raucous chemicals of life are here in abundance. Full of the life giving ash of fires long extinguished. And the nurturing rot of lives, long gone. But nothing grows here. This plutonion field. So rich in the potentials of life. Yet I alone traverse the pungent loam.The product of centuries of life giving rot. I walk on hallowed ground. Sacred, where no man lives, but many sleep. Hallowed ground where life is forsaken. Hallowed ground where death is found. Hallowed ground where names are written in stone. Here on Hallowed ground I walk alone. The earth is a deep deep brown. Almost black. It's countenance is one of great importance and somber conversations. As if to be walked upon is the greatest indignity. To it you are the lowest of the low, none may match it's importance. "I am from whence you came and where you shall return" it says, like a haughty parent. It recoils from my touch, unwanting to be in contact with such an impure thing. Hallowed ground it is. Sacred and beautiful. Where names are written in stone and no life may grow. A land of such potential life. That scorns what it may become. What a merry paradox. Here where names are written in stone. I walk on hollow ground. Tweet
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