Saturday, October 10, 2009
In the sun we work and run like warriors of flame,
Inside this star of dirt, we see the fires of our game.
Inner souls fetch the flame and soar into the skies,
First to interrupt then to conserve, even then to actualize.
The souls of flame are going to infernal regions
Inside the solemn star so cold and dumb as abdomens.
The upper world slogs on, stands over the world,
It is a sky so savage, and interests are hurled.