But when we thirst in this
dry night
We drink from hot wells poisoned
with the blood of children
And when we strain to hear
a steady homing beam
Our ears are balked by stiffled
moans
And howls of desolation from
the throats of sisters, brother, wild men
Clawing at the gates for bread
Even our own feeble hands
Aim to seize the crown you
wear
And work our private havock
through
The known and unknown lands
of space
Absolute in flame beyond us
Seed and source of Dark and
Day
Maker whom we beg to be
Our mother father comrade
mate
Til our few atoms blow to dust
Or form again in wiser lives
Or find your face and hear
our name
In your calm voice the end
of night
If dark may end
Wellspring gold of Dark and
Day
Be here, be now
Marco Giunco |
Work | Basket | Music | Words |