Treasure Pods

While we built a roof for the sky
the pounding chewed on,
of those who died
touching the clouds with their chest
embracing the wind as their dreams.
Of souls on the ladder
left hanging from broken promises.
All crown and jewels
silver and gold
lead and wood
from their belongings
were buried in the open.
While we have eyes that barely see,
the cemetery became a pod
one incubator,
books became a pod
like that of the spaceship,
and read if we don’t
never will we find the nails for the roof,
the turf for our grounds
the chisel for these rocks.
We will be unfinished songs
broken G-clefs with small guts.
Host of dumb oceans
while deep lives as a halo
above us
All.

Ruddapoet

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