these stones
this scriptorium
rests far
to the distant journey
rivers of babylon
willows clinging
to their banks
in the dawning mists
in the midst of longing
captive of chosen isolation
dreams gone astray
lost forgotten sheep
oh what sacrificial lamb
slaughtered skinned scrapped
to scribe upon this psalmtry
book of hours
hours of days
longed for yet gone
resurrect again
commingle upon
vellum & parchment
TERRENCE SYKES