|
My place lies not in that immortal sea. |
|
I am just a penance. |
|
Diurnal unbalance. |
|
A fissure is shutting off in between |
|
The song that we don't hear, |
|
The end that we don't feel. |
|
We will walk ever calmly, |
|
In the sound of your warfare, |
|
No motion, |
|
No forceRich beyond the wealth of kings. |
|
Of bane we know of not to witness |
|
But in the grass that rises from the grave. |
|
That is us. |
|
A thousand notes ring out. |
|
That is us. |
|
The chill that is in your gut. |
|
That is us. |
|
The acknowledgement rashin all your solitudeis the weight of the human nature. |
|
A busy spadeleft unrememberedin plain view, again, |
|
Alive in thoughts too deep for any tears, |
|
The silence of the spirit, |
|
A mutilated bower |
|
We throw in vein against our very earth. |
|
The sky is bearing down. |
|
Piety in guilt. |
|
All we are is the debris |
|
Spinning around, |
|
Betrayed.Go and gather all we know |
|
In purest silence. |
|
Then nothing more. |
