Upon each stone, a face: a soul denied
And left to linger on this beach of lies,
That rings the turbid sea where kings reside.
This is the place a dream goes when it dies.
And huts and towers high each take a stone,
To rest beneath the basement, dark and sealed,
With all the things we'd rather leave unknown.
A stony beach becomes an empty field.
When next a roof is raised, and gods demand
The soul of one a monster newly named,
Who will be lost to honour the command?
Who live on knowing that a life was claimed?
In dreams I saw the place these stones are laid;
My waking mind forgets — or is afraid.
Jenkins Rising 