2. Rain Orison
Raindrops chase the ground
Whip around boiling sound of
Thunder takes the air,
Cracks of laughter everywhere.
Raindrops hail the air,
Lightnings wince in great despair,
A burning roofs, once scared, now sighs
As flames turn into moistened air.
Raindrops veil the sky,
The final curtain of fire,
Amazingly they fly,
An ancient, sacred lullaby.
Blazing walls of stone
Now blasting in the pouring rain,
To be revealed, the pain,
Dispelled, the wicked smell
Of mould and drain.
Oh Precious Haze Pervade The Pain,
Cool down that aching spine,
Make anger starve,
Wrath is drowned while shivering.
Oh Precious Haze Pervade The Land,
The morrow will find peace,
Trees regain their former strength
And sigh away the shades of pain.
On a night such as this
He stood there
Underneath them clouds
In divine innocence
The rain ran down
His cheeks and chin
On a night such as this
His gaze approver them clouds
He was painting the storm
and the wind
and he cried, and he grinned.
3. Skytied
With or beneath
Or to wither and fade
We must
But never trust!
Or if, somehow, some of the brave...?
But who? Where to find? Faith
Omnipresent ground,
This valley is our home
Gore is now what drippled from the sky
Shelter your seed, let them embody
What caution is all about
Meanings of thornes pass by
This tendril - never to reach the sky
Inside their caves
(Precautionary measure)
Creeping through the dark
Disturbed by sympthoms
But rescued, and saved the warm
And choking
Meanings of thornes,
Beneath the crown:
The brave shall drown
Is it a sky that already hurts?
Into the grave
Never to be day of the brave
My head nothing else
To be blamed and burnt
And stay the same
Never the slightest movement
Tied
I am nailed unto the sky
Ravens unbearably fly
Angels unbearably cry
Cursing their eyes,
Denying the sky
Longing to die
And I am nailed unto the sky
6. Futility
Move him into the sun -
Gently its touch awoke him once,
At home, whispering of fields unsown.
Always it woke him, even in France,
Until this morning and this snow.
If anything might rouse him now
The kind old sun will know.
Think how it wakes the seeds, -
Woke, once, the clays of a cold star.
Are limbs, so dear-achieved, are sides
Full-nerved - still warm -
Too hard to stir?
Was it for this the clay grew tall?
- O what made fatuous sunbeams toil
To break earth's sleep at all?
