Lightless Nightress in cold Crown'd
At noon alive, at midnight drown'd
Skin lily-white and pallid bright
Icy eyes of sightless fright
Voiceless breathless warmthless lips
Golden hair in winter's grips.
By mourning moon, a wandering mem'ry
Of deathless youth and thawing Feb'ry.

I looked out the Window
and I saw
Beauty, abounding Bounty,
Peace, prosperous Pain,
Love and Lust and Longing,
a Hierarchy of Hate,
Mourning Mothers, Mounds of Dead,
virullent Venoms, poison Flowerbeds,
deep dark Caves of dread,
Birthplaces for beautiful things,
long profound Silences
Demon and Angle Wings
Roads longer than Long
Horizons farther than Far
ethereal, heavenly, beconning Stars.
I opened the Window
and stepped Outside

My hands are only my hands
When they grasp the wood of a pencil
My face is only my face
In the light of a reading lamp
My voice is only my voice
When it calls you unlike any other
My eyes are only my eyes
When they gaze laughingly at danger
My love is only my love
Because it is spoken in whispers
My joy is only my joy
Because of the crookedness of my smile
My angre is only my anger
Because of the ashes at my feet
My hate is only my hate
Because of your sweet tears
My fear is only my fear
Because of all these wasted years
I am a prime example
Of precise uniformity
and painful uniqueness

the words on this page
are the same colour as night
their stars are invisible,
they gleam in the mind
when it strains to find
words of wisdom,
hidden like stolen things
with tied-up wings

but stars can fly
just like birds
there is nothing so devastating
as an arsenal of knowledge
and an army of words