Maniacal laughter echoes the halls of creation,
The evergreen alley; the tree-pillars of green
Bent under the weight of the sapphire slab
That is the sky, the Heaven-dome.
And my back aches, its joints joined by the
Vigor of the ages weaken, stiffen as the trees
Outside. Years, like leaves, are carried yon
High, where the earthly winds fan out in a play
Of sickly, pale light. Yon is Heaven, the great
House-in-the-sky, home to a family of the dead,
The lifeless, the loveless web-spinners of faith.
Time, the wild-tempered sea, breaks itself
Against the clad-granite monolith of eternity.
Foam of ages grips at the basin of the pillars
Of Heaven; the salt-teeth grind against the
Bedrock. The faithful scream, their voices
In mad waves of sound crash down into the
Earth. Here now bloom sickly flowers and
Dead trees; the evergreen dry leaves sail the
Dry winds. Heaven spills into time’s ocean;
The eternity, eaten away like a tattered cloth,
Is at once forgotten. The joints of my spine
At once are undone - the stiffness of ages,
The soul, escapes my body, is lost in the woods.
I lay, shattered; time spins the wheel, and
Tomorrow, I reckon, here where I lay shall grow
Another evergreen.