Creek of Intrigue

Miserable particles Slightly dust the surface Overgrown fragments That cradles the flames Blackened harvest Fragile stones Of tombs unknown Soaring over head are the dead That speaks silently Linked Moons away Connecting gradually The lost trails are finding me At the end is where we begin Innocent still full of sin Weak for days Every day of the week Our past so dry We cannot speak Swaying to the East Landing in the West Rooted in the South Towering to the North Surrounding me The fatigue Lying in a creek Of intrigue