The Hill of the Creeping Shadow

I lay down on the cracks in the ground beside the hill of the creeping shadow.   This vast red wasteland is empty        of all connections.   The barren dead, dried up earth crumbles under my feet.   Did life once bloom here?   The wind whips up the dust into my lungs.   Dirt turns to mud it sticks to every hair.   The sun burns down on the living on the dead past.   An echo claps its sound across the sky.   Out here is where I'll die.   I lay down on the cracks in the ground beside the hill of the creeping shadow. Rob Kennedy	Tanya Rossi