Dark clouds of lead and wrathful winds –

The ever-hungry vultures of the summit –

Have gathered

Around me

/

With claws of ice they tear though every thing:

My flightless mind, my flesh, immobile,

They rip in pieces

And pieces

/

And from across the world I know you watch

What you love disappear into the gaping

Mouth of a dream,

My wildest dream

/

For but an hour turn away, and nothing will be left:

The sacred birds will vanish, their wings – the skies – blood-red;

I am the dying dusk

You’re looking at:

/

I’ve burned this day,

But many more are yet

To come