I flew between the sun and sea
My wings upheld by wind
And warmed by summer sun.
I flew for hours until the sea
Withdrew and birthed a plain
Of salt laced sand and mud.
I flew until the sand and mud
Expired and spent arose as dust
And parched the land and air.
I flew through dust that left
My normal senses blind,
But still, I sought the rivers end.
I flew until I saw its mouth
An open wound, a silent shriek
That dry heaved up its empty ancient bed.
I flew between the broken banks
And barren twisted frames
And rocks stained red from rust.
I flew through swirling dust
Sand scoured sky shrouded light
And only echoes led me up the ancient bed.
I flew past broken banks, spectral shifting shapes
And voided broken stone and quartz fused glass,
A ghosted flow that echoed up the ancient river bed.
No light or wind-borne water laden river wind,
But only dark, arid dust, imprints and echoes,
As far as even my augmented eyes could see.
© Greg Richards
Day 26 – What future archaeologists, whether human or from an alien civilisation, might make of us? In this case an ancient river bed.