He is the one they told me about:
Iron fist, black head, no wings
Only strings
Which he ties around your feet -
If you try
If you try to creep
Out of his reach.

He is the high blurred figure
And the dark man
Beside the grave
He is the grave digger, love.

But also,
He is you
As your face turns
As your eye burns
In the dim light.

Realising -
They have told a lie -
Don't cry.