The Rune Cube

Steps that sound like distant bells

Upon this scratched out surface.

Empty wasteland, frozen

Dusted and departed,

But not entirely

Distant voices playing still,

Mixing and tinkling with the song of my feet,

They are young

I am one of those children

And this, unknown play.

The voices and laughter dance,

Sometimes close, sometimes echoing far,

No one when I turn my head

And yet I feel they could still reach me,

if they tried.

I’m holding something in my palms,

A glowing cube of ice,

Inscribed with runes and symbols,

Hidden languages imprinted on the

Itching folds of my brain,

Something I’m not meant to know.

What danger comes?

What voices now shriek, running?

The frozen stage beneath me cracks,

Splinters and collapses

More suddenly than I can see,

I’ve fallen

Plunging into icy depths

Heavy now above me,

Light trailing,

Piercing the breathless lake

Bright symbols drifting,

Out of my reach

Despite the kicking feet,

The water worn grasp,

Losing feeling

Bubbles of life escaping my mouth,

Hitting the clouded ice above me,

The opening now far

Remember that I wish to live,

Striving up

With all my might,

Fists shooting forcefully

Against the windowed doom,

Weakly, then weaker

Bang

Bang,

Bang.