In a land of lizards and beetles and sand
stand the ruined temples of the
third generation after the plague.
And once,
where the men made of gold
worshipped the Sun I am told
there was a terrible death laid upon them.
Those men from the mines
who mined gold for the men made of gold
were the only ones saved.
Slaves made from tin and from pewter weighed in with their wails
but the dark angel sails only
in one direction
that of destruction and
correction.
Now on the dune under the laugh of the moon
the scarabs and the lizards hold sway
and there is nothing in the way of each day
except ruins.