A eunuch stands at the hallow grounds. Singing into the hollow tree trunk. Singing of lovers lost and a life once watched.

Standing in awe of the mist as the night revives to the  fog as the dawn rolls into the hallow ground. Rolling in like the tide curling over the sands of time

White over green

And weeds wrapping around the sphere of water like a bag in the wind

Still the eunuch can’t find the answers to the song that he sings

Or what the morning starts to bring

Minds criss cross in a single wrinkle in time

Spirits roam in wandering towards the light

Lingering and labouring through the walls into the sands of time

White on grey

Swinging through the breeze less hallways and corridors

The afternoon is when they take their tea

Looking as the waves curl onto the sands of time from the grasping sea

Now all will be

And the sands of time will never cease to show what needs to be seen

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