a poem, by Sha’Tara
They were the golden ones and
They stood side by side, and face to face
His right arm circled her slim waist
Her left resting firmly on his bare shoulder
Thus were they carved for history
And the sun traversed the copper skies.
Beautiful they were, oh so beautiful
The air still seemed to carry the sighs and cheers
From the gathered crowds observing in awe
The ceremony of promise and betrothal
Of the Crown Prince King to be Ramonati
And his lovely prize and princess bride Elata.
The winds of time blew over the land
The great dunes rose like ocean waves
And were worn down again and again
To reveal the golden ones once more
A headless torso teetering on one leg
An armless body collapsed by its single foot.
The powerful man makes himself stone
To remind the world of his passage
The poor man leaves but his own bones
The world never remembers his passage
And in the end what does it matter
Erosion works through stone and bone.