Under the Midnight Sun

The gunman walked
dressed in black
across the burning sands,
the vulture followed
as his shadow,
black wings fluttered in
an arid wind,
ghosts walked at his side
his only true companions,
it was a barren land
devoid of all forgiveness
with strange things done
in the Midnight Sun
by the men who moil for gold
and the women
who toiled had hearts
blacker than
a miners pit
or the gunman's eyes,
they came, with hopes
and dreams
crushed to dust
beneath the heel,
and the scavengers
thrived upon the bones
the only thing
left behind.