|
Come down from the lion's back |
|
call down to the endless sleepers |
|
bring light to the dimming days |
|
that run in an endless stream now |
|
In the black of the eye |
|
in the heat of the act |
|
is a crack in the ice |
|
Come down from the iron wheel |
|
come back from the endless labor |
|
look down on the rolling waves |
|
that strike on the crumbling reef now |
|
is what the body becomes |
|
in the bellow aloud |
|
in the crack of the drum |
|
and as the body dies |
|
what is left from the heart |
|
burns white |
|
No light on the western shore |
|
no sign of the ships at anchor |
|
no sound but the roaring winds |
|
no warmth but the life behind the eye |
|
and what the body allows |
|
is a flash in the heart |
|
until the memory dies |
|
and a forever life |
|
is an infinite lie |
|
hung wide |
