A VISIT TO OZY The desert stretched to the horizon, bare and empty— only two vast blocks of stone stood on its level sands. Old, decayed, like pillars from a ruined temple; we were sure something had made them when this land had life. But searching in their shadows we found simply nothing, no sign of who or what had raised them here. There was just a knobbly rounded rock, lying half-sunk near there, its huge hacked surface split by deep cuts that seemed to sneer, and on a slab beneath them we saw marks that might have sometime been words: man or king perhaps, perhaps mighty and despair. It was not important. This world was wrecked, by who and why no one could know. It was cold. We were getting bored. It was then the odd-shaped rock yawned, opened wide blind eyes and wrinkled lips. "Put me back on my legs at once!" it roared. —Dave Calder
All rights to this poem belong to its author.
Get your own Free Home Page