I tend to stay as silent as possible when two minds interact It is my camouflage And the woven fragment of argument Of ecology and war and more Is overwhelming when the moon is so full And the killdeers know not if it is a grey morning Or midnight But I am the last one left Alone by the fire waning While the embers orange dim off And the cold creeps in from the swamp And my thoughts begin to ignite On the horizon of perpetual sleep
(But it is I who walk the gravel road in shadows So deep into the forgotten night, into the illuminated swamp Making sure the flames will not uproot again).