Unsung

Death
does not abide by
or belong
to the solemn smoke
of guns.

It suffuses
in the pages of history,
sometimes awake,
sometimes asleep.

To the thick mist
of ages, it clings like oily dust
and howls with the wind.

The song of Vesuvius.
The song of us, unheard.

1/26/2006 6:27 PM - First Post