Latter Days (in progress)

Alone, I walk the wooded hill;
Alone, I whisper to the sky;
Alone, I watch the sun go down;
Alone, I watch the world go by.

The clouds race past the two-horned moon;
The shadows huddle on the ground;
The stars bespeck the universe;
The night-wind sighs without a sound.

The last of Earth's lost sheep am I,
The last to walk these crumbling roads,
A dream that watches might-have-beens
That pass before the sun explodes.

The road to Calgary is paved,
And trees stand where once crosses bore
The best and worst of humankind
Were once the same: outcast and poor.

For all the sound and fury made,
For though these engines drive us on,
My dearest dreams are out of reach,
And like the whales, they're almost gone.

--Megan Morris, meikundayo@yahoo.com