This debris in which I venture,
has toiled me into a spine,
Thus,
no flesh clings to me as mine,
In me hope nurtures but dare not infuse,
The nocturne drowns in me profuse,
So I cradle the stars and tame them so,
their mysteries I unveil and name them so,
For they ruminate of the suffering of this pearly land,
The sky beholds my gaze unshorn,
If I think of god my breath is worn,
Is to him our flesh awake?
Or a dough for his might to slake,
This seasons are this man torture,
They wilt aways like sand in water,
So to the sky my eyes I keep,
Yet my blood, on earth it lands when my heart it weep,
Oh dear man your heart has a hole!,
From which avades your soul,
If I seek myself whole I would taunt you so,
If I seek myself none I would want you so,