Sinking Souls at the Crossroads

People fade away 

Beings fall apart 

Dying in their thought 

While drowning in their plots 

Calling out to nowhere 

From the middle of a lake 

Where the air laid stale 

As the elm bark swam 

Staring into green 

Blurring out the hues 

A solemn thought slipped 

In the pasture of my view 

Hands are pressed to mud 

Rinsing land from dirt 

Snagging to my thoughts 

Tugged by lonely urns 

Rafting into ground 

Anchored near the harbor 

A coffin's creaking sound 

Echoes of the fallow 

Scratching at the lid 

Drawing near to surface 

Should the secrets seep 

From a tomb of ancient verses 

Stygian boats shall gift 

All without their knowledge 

Unearthing History 

Of a past paved out of darkness.