the painted strange faces!
the ugly brutal
the ritualistic sense of slaughter!

the day recoils unto its
mystic roots

we make fun of the day and the protectors
we are
so
very
weak

allowing death to
run free

--

the subtle pastel
soft with indecision
gentle

we race sunset
to the western horizon

we do not yield

--

coming awake
we
come awake

the holy sacred beach
the water!
the wind

caresses all cheeks

--

the sleepy hollow
the false
fade
die
and we

are here
eventually

eventually