My face is exposed
My true face cut in marble
Hammer and chisel
My spirit is loose
Cut to pieces by the wind
I am shivering
The sacred descends
Free from linearity
And the hand of time
In this still moment
I watch the maelstrom approach
Green with jealousy
Thunder and lightning
Children wander without aim
Like small hungry ghosts
Dreams drawn taught, and notched
Strings of tension holding them
Like poisoned arrows
