them bones

Bone turns to stone

in earth

buried interred

imprisoned in isolation

seriously linear

the simplicity, the innocence

of separation loss loneliness

grief suffering pain

feel it in my bones

a strict no to frivolity

focus on the real

concentrate on substance

the essential the material

the vital point

rake over the bones

get your house in order

he says

the father figure

rules the roost with absolute power

harshness severity rigour

he is the black crow stopping time

in the yggdrasil

I am the cuckoo

crying Where? Where?

my soul taking sanctuary in the apple tree

he feeds on the carcasses

of the dead

bringing knowledge

he suddenly swoops down

the bruised cuckoo

wiser now

asks not where but why?