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