Monuments of distraction,

portals from hell

The gates, the temptation,

where the misguided dwell

Three dimensions the material,

where emptiness hides

The lions all roaring

from cages inside

The pathways worn smooth,

the comfort is there

The direction indifferent,

when worn with a flair

The roads have all ended,

turned in on themselves

And darkness locks tightly,

all souls on the shelf

The shadows of lateness,

behind monuments fall

Where seeds never sewn,

grow heavy and tall

In an orchard of indulgence

the trophies are stained

The fruit of the promise

rots endorsed in your name

The music is dimming,

there's darkness ahead

Those memories that haunt us,

escort us to bed

Where the covers are pulled back,

and the curtains are tied

All change now beyond us

. . . in mourning we lie



(Shiprock New Mexico: May, 1996)