What a reckless bird,
Snitching the snow under the legs.
In the omnipresent blueness of this night,
Which is held by occult hands with
Long black nails,
In openwork lace.

And the sky has its eyes,
Chestnut curls spiraling glaciers,
Cut and chipped,
Onto our eyes as needles falling through,
Sewing the horizon.
As if poked, named papercards with the red thread,
During the conclave.

Stretched cardinals through the starry path,
Indicative of a new heart to arrive
On the prolonged, upside-down riverbed,
Provident messiah.
Will come as Minerva came through her father's head,
Fully grown, wearing golden armor.