[December 1997]
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Return from yourself, the reaper of my fields
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Return, for you are needed.
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For the one yet to be born.
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The child cries out your name, the night whispers to me
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In the streets the screams are alive.
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And they will always be.
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White veils hanging still, waiting for you and me.
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The forest still awaits, let us run...across.
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Return, for the morning maybe never.
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And the breeding is still untouched.
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Return, maybe I fade away.
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Before the sun, but not the stares.
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They still weep the centuries in your name.
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For the moon still is what it was
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...Your name and the closed gate.
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The stares shine for hours, like the fields never reaped
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Return for the sun that has it's wings widespread.
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The horizons sleep in a story
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My feelings glare at thee.
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As their mornings end, my mourning begins.
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My pain is much for you; I shall let you breathe,
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Open skies tasteful depths, green seas and you and me.
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Return, since I caress the young. Since pathos burns in me,
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Merge me; blend me, into sorrow.
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Shade me with trees of grief
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Touch me; winds of pain come touch me,
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Burn me pathos; burn me if you can,
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Now that what I have become,
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Time is in immortal soils.
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Sing, and dance for my return.
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Returning To Pathos
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| Dusk |
