Thus Trudge the Berwac

By Night it Moves

Thus Trudge the Berwac

The Berwac slumps, its breath heaves the dawn

A bellowed call wobe through bone and sinew

Outstretched, its maw agape to silent scream

Do crackle, do creak, do rage, do pity

This beast abides, but how, man does not know

Pierced, cut down, burdened and heavy laden

It lurches trumbled, though by sight flutters

Due West, a mountain rises on clay feet

Out of the East, white fire burns limb and root

A thromb goes out in a sea of faces

Still daylight brings purchase where hope prevails

Great creatures abounding till daylight fades

When the dunderjack's returned to his den

And surly hawk wafted back to her nest

But the Berwac beast will find no slumber

Nor respite of pain this night, till the next

surreal poetry
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Daniel Cole

Author and artist, I'm finding my spirit again late in life. Old passions for poetry borne of love, loss, hope and pain, things with which everyone is familiar.

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