January 7, 2004

Caedes Dementia

Gnashing, Biting, Thrashing
All the world is thus
For the cage
Of the Mind
Likens to the laughing, weeping
Of the Mad

As Sol hearkens thrice
His brilliance,
And Luna’s serenade
Of lust
Of love
Tears fall and fade

And once the dew
Of dawn breaks
And shingles of life
Lost, gone
Who are left but few
Of claw, of mud

Stone thus cannot write
Nor Wind see
Water naught tide or rise
Air who bleeds
The Light is none
From Darkness; cries

A coin so bright
In well so deep
Ever to fall
In pools of night
From Loves
Whom weep.

Unjust is he.