Mar 2020
The blood, the bone,
That Universe of home.
The drying bed, the empty husk.
Dreams that smell of deepest dusk.
Fallen snow, a final toll.
Shed not the spark -- retreat, still whole.
That Universe of home.
The drying bed, the empty husk.
Dreams that smell of deepest dusk.
Fallen snow, a final toll.
Shed not the spark -- retreat, still whole.
