Images

Lo and behold, a silent, as mute, crying, hot tears shining
through the amber light, we see an angel,
a soul, and as a fairy queen, yet honey full wings
flutter that burden, the ancient dome, as a firefly
on the cold wall, through stupor and haze
overwhelming, slowly about to deliver, song
of the ages past, with a deep voice
sung, like a lightning, the music sped, over me,
you, and the pregnant mother earth, the soul, the angel we see,
to rejoin the fallen body, felled as an ancient tree,
we saw me, as from deep sleep awake, raising, gazing,
the pale form shaping,
into ghostlike terrible image, again, of the devils glee,
to me!