Night's maternal shroud
Like the sacrificial lamb wipes
The angel's tracks
From my crooked visage;
In hollowed gasps sweeping
Diaphanous breathing robes
Over the multiplying dirt
Only visible in daylight;
That first twinkling ray
Piercing the door on its only way
Is embraced by my newborn soul;
I allow it in a lapse of reason
To drink from my heart's spout.
Come noontime the reaper
Is at my gate with a scythe;
All my golden threads
Being trimmed to clothe His servants
First dipped in the morning dew.
First sight of the Moon
I am naked, only skin
Their temples built of passion borne
From the artist's bone;
I lay in wait
For the morning light.
Like the sacrificial lamb wipes
The angel's tracks
From my crooked visage;
In hollowed gasps sweeping
Diaphanous breathing robes
Over the multiplying dirt
Only visible in daylight;
That first twinkling ray
Piercing the door on its only way
Is embraced by my newborn soul;
I allow it in a lapse of reason
To drink from my heart's spout.
Come noontime the reaper
Is at my gate with a scythe;
All my golden threads
Being trimmed to clothe His servants
First dipped in the morning dew.
First sight of the Moon
I am naked, only skin
Their temples built of passion borne
From the artist's bone;
I lay in wait
For the morning light.