The Nameless

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Photo by Jonatán Becerra on Unsplash
We speak of her from time to time 
I hear of her likes, her loves, her cruelties 
Not once however
Have I heard her name
How many suns had to pass
Before he forgot how to speak it
How many sandstorms fought
To erase the way it sounded
Falling from his lips?
What rivers carved
Their way through rock
What night fell
In a silence that held
And failed to end
And what is the shadow that remains After they have both passed on  Casting gray 'cross memory's threshold Stark, mute, and nameless

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