Among the moans of my singing,
Far away, looking past Heaven's awnings,
Damp words, animals' grasping,
And purity - far surpassing tantalizing answers,
There becomes a mirror - montonous nothingness.
The warmth of a woman's tear,
Nestled away and free from fear,
Becomes a terrible celebate sound.
Because of the uniting at the sea,
They are coming together within the fullness of sleep.
Light's droppings are landing as I sing,
Downwards, filling my blood with the day.
Death is finding another abyssmal meaning.
The morning makes the awareness go away.
I see as I ejaculate the temptation I tread.
The savor is pulling the feelings from the rock I tread.
While I am living among the same nows,
And throwing "It" while seeing the dew drawn,
Madness becomes coldness as the tides love
And together open the lunatic ceiling by a high land
Of round moon and wolf's fits.
The silver night is now about us.
May it be like an immortal.