Silent Footsteps Fall

The old man walked unsteady in a blowing desert wind.

His sights fixed, his heart sure of the approaching end.

Yellow thick dust of furry filled the cracks in his time worn face.

 Dried brown effigies of his eclipsing past vanished without a trace.

He remembered the days of afore, time lush, filled with rain.

A time before the desert, a day before the storm

A time in which wrath called not his name.

Pressing on he stumbles; skin now angry red.

A molten sun steals moisture, bleaching bones of the dead.

The day yields to night, temperature still a hundred and ten.

Silent footsteps fall in the desert which knows no end.

A red sun rises as the yellow dust doth another claim.

Come now another old man walking

who will with the desert wind reveal his shame.

See now the silent footsteps fall…

J. Allen Wilson © TWELVE 2006

 my website

Numbers 32:23, "But if ye will not do so, behold, ye have sinned against the Lord: and be sure your sin will find you out."