Poetry
Niceland Iceland
the fragment is all that survived…
When the eye of a winter's sun
Reclines on the horizon
I want to reach out
I want to touch it
At the end of my earth
At the centre of yours
I want to hear the silence
Of volcanic rocks
And feel the rustling
Turn of a page
Dark and bright
Long day and longer night
I want a saga
Just a little one
To hold me tight
I want as lava
To be molten, young and alive
Ready to melt and mingle
With the frozen soil
To take a place among the ancient
In the heart, by the hearth
With the newness of snow
And merge unattested into oneness
With the rocky plain to know
The centre of all things
How things can be
How they should be
And there I'll cling for enduring life
Nevermore engulfed in strife
Of this wretched world
Of anger, hate and pain
Andrew Eagle is an English instructor and an occasional contributor to Star Literature & Reviews pages.
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