The Escaping Sky
The deadman’s face is a swamp unseen by men;
A swamp in the wasteland is the escape of part of the sky.
The fugitive sky is the brimming of roses;
The brimming of roses is the snow that has never fallen.
The fallen snow is a string being twanged;
A string being twanged is a tear in the veins.
The rising tears are burning hearts;
And burning hearts are swamps, their wastelands.