The dead they speak to me,
In dreams full of burning things.
Voices of ash and spark
Glowing in the dark night
Like embers, like fireflies.
Pushing against the midnight sky
I am the future, I am the dream -
I tell men of impossible things,
The future glimpsed but not truly seen.
I am the changes not yet wrought
But sure to come to pass
I know what the unconscious mind knows
My body is built of stars and spark
The night sky stretched taunt across celestial bones
I am an island, for I am no man -
Like a quail into the sea I am
Crocodile's tears have fallen from these eyes
And my tears are burning hot
The making of stars
May 5, 2020
May 5, 2020 at 9:07 PM UTC
The dead they speak to me,
In dreams full of burning things.
Voices of ash and spark
Glowing in the dark night
Like embers, like fireflies.
Pushing against the midnight sky
I am the future, I am the dream -
I tell men of impossible things,
The future glimpsed but not truly seen.
I am the changes not yet wrought
But sure to come to pass
I know what the unconscious mind knows
My body is built of stars and spark
The night sky stretched taunt across celestial bones
I am an island, for I am no man -
Like a quail into the sea I am
Crocodile's tears have fallen from these eyes
And my tears are burning hot
The making of stars
