|
on ye hill where ye sun behind horizon hides there is nothing except our breaths and crux of events and some crux ov our hands on ye hill where shadow wings fell wind rose ye to song and we plung'd in its deep and in plaitiv waterfall depths evanescent recollection ov atavisms secret ov living in ye death posture and then... the ye seal in the garden ov dispersion closes ye mouth closes ye eyes closes ye ears in fields ov eden under ye first tree's rotting root there's feast typhon's feast and night came moonless but yet ye light appear'd - picture ov sigillic angels grafting in our holy body and mind |