Monuments of distraction,
portals from hell
The gates, the temptation,
where the misguided dwell
Three dimensions the material,
where emptiness hides
The lions all roaring
from cages inside
The pathways worn smooth,
the comfort is there
The direction indifferent,
when worn with a flair
The roads have all ended,
turned in on themselves
And darkness locks tightly,
all souls on the shelf
The shadows of lateness,
behind monuments fall
Where seeds never sewn,
grow heavy and tall
In an orchard of indulgence
the trophies are stained
The fruit of the promise
rots endorsed in your name
The music is dimming,
there's darkness ahead
Those memories that haunt us,
escort us to bed
Where the covers are pulled back,
and the curtains are tied
All change now beyond us
. . . in mourning we lie
(Shiprock New Mexico: May, 1996)