I feel the black breath settle on my neck

A black sun communicates with me

There is an imaginative power at its source

It is like the purple stain on a drawn wine cork

My vision is occupied by it, it twinkles and crackles

I see a scent hang in the air, an anesthetising intoxicant

Numbing, cold, like watching gargoyles in the street

I know the winds speech it has an oneiric vocabulary

That drifts among the scarlet stained scent

Swirling through my crystallized thought

Causing a pristine vacillation in my mind

That echoes like a vacant cobalt night  

Disturbing the fundamental enigma

That is the centre of my being

I close my eyes