i find that those dried corpses

sun desert dying

argue best the sweetness

of palid sand upon parched tongue

while blood-foot wanderer

sings songs to baked pavement pain

and dry-hearted vagabonds

cry what need you of joy

again and again and again and again

 

join the cold unmoving masses

embedded in Dante’s frozen lake

come learn the piety of eternal end

live rigor-fixed forever

it is after all best for your sake

 

listen to the songs of the blind

they cry – tear out your eyes

the dark builds character

colour is the over-rated myth of a beautiful world

 

but i say

better crazy kaleidoscopic vision

then dead grey iron strength

better happiness of sweet water given

then life unlived of any length