Lyric - Arthur Gregor

The embodiment of what
lies at the core of dreams,
in limbs that move as in
a dance; the thrust at the heart
of eyes that pour
deep violet on one's lap,
the music that follows,
the throb at the top of the head:
what are these
but indices
to what can never be attained!
Some warriors died thus
the sun flashing in their eyes,
and others in wet sand
not able to withstand
the drag of watervoices and
the treachery in ears!