Third Shift
by Mark Reep
When the shift bell tolls in the mines of night,
the seekers after dreams forgotten
rise from their work, bind their grimy rucksacks,
shoulder such burdens as they have unearthed—
Some great, doubtless precious;
some hollow, likely empty;
some only shards, but you never know-
and begin the long climb to the scales.
the seekers after dreams forgotten
rise from their work, bind their grimy rucksacks,
shoulder such burdens as they have unearthed—
Some great, doubtless precious;
some hollow, likely empty;
some only shards, but you never know-
and begin the long climb to the scales.
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Author's Note
Published in amphibi.us. My thanks to editor Shannon Peil.
Other stories by Mark Reep
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Seeking "after dreams forgotten" describes a valid approach to writing: "Some great, doubtless precious; / some hollow, likely empty; / some only shards, but you never know- " And that's what keeps you going.
Well said. I don't discard much anymore, even small cuts. Never know when or where those shards may dovetail neatly.
Yikes! This one will give me nightmares! Fav.
Thanks, Jack!