an old writer and his words

You, who have walked herethrough the ages,who have watcheda million suns swallowedby untiring waves,what is it you expect?There is nothing here for youthe spirits of the old oneshave long since fledour sharpened blades,retreated with the starsinto the hillsthat rise from forest.The animals will cometo you no morefor we have served them upas a sacrifice to…