Fire burning in a hill

The lines are rocky rough

Red angels wait to pick remains

The cindered shoulder

Of confused men

Seperate from their awe

With grey desire

He looks out mad

His soft grey indigo eyes

Indigo eyes ...

Asking

His heaven is uncovered not

A black tree blocks his way

His way is skating round a dome

(His way is in dismay)

The playmate sings

Like Orphee in some thunder world

Asking to be bathed in light

To be exemplified

With grey desire he looks out mad

His soft grey indigo eyes

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