the starres are marching sadly home

		and shall i see You once again 
		and see the flags of InmostLight 
		and shall i turn towards the dusk 
		and dream of dust and broken ships 
		and shall they sink without a sigh 
		and line the deeps and banners sleep 
		and winds blow still and clouds amass 
		so with a gun or with a cross 
		or with a shrug or with a god 
		we catch through cracks 
		and hear through creaks 
		the bruises of the echoes of 
		theInmostLight 
		theInmostLight 
		it says hello and fartoolate 
		i shall not laugh and 
		you still fall crippled and broken: 
		these days shall not come again 
		the starres are marching sadly home 
		the seahorse rears to oblivion 
		these days shall not rise again 
		i shall no longer believe all 
		he visions of my youth 
		they have dissolved into nihil 
		her arms will not hold me again 
		except at night at night 
		in dreams i patch together 
		from sleepydust 
		as rain falls as honey and drenches the trees 
		the children run ragged 
		the children run mine 
		(i wish) 
		nothing shall fresh spring again 
		the starres are lost in distorted twilight 
		notblue, nor streaked with 
		regalslash of red 
		this is the final TwistedBlackGash but 
		notmine notmine 
		notmine notmine 
		children shall always weep 
		the woods are archen now 
		no coptic blanket 
		the vaults... so 
		i break all the boughs in front of me 
		i glimpse the dog bounddeadsmile 
		(goodbye...) 
		into these parched woods... 
		the crippled line the path to the white lodge 
		they are the entrance sight and exit sigh 
		the crippled line the river banks 
		and through their praying ferociously 
		the bloodbells whine unbearable 
		they scream now unbearable 
		they are perched against the wetwhite cliffs 
		the starres are marching sadly home 
		(fall with me) 
		the starres in file are fallen 
		then now great 
		how little now 
		when You look here 
		there are no eyes to see You 
		any longer we dance together 
		you and i away in dead woods 
		take Your brightness away 
		my eyes blurred before 
		they could not touch You 
		in all my sounds of Your farewell 
		and songs of the radiance of Your body 
		(all of it: even the filth was gold to me 
		the fountain was gold) 
		as You thrust Your throat 
		towards the pallid sky 
		i could never reach You truly... 
		when i open my lips 
		i have no words any longer 
		my mouth is blind and dead 
		and this life 
		though i have shielded myself 
		with a rosaried wall 
		i came to see no meanings 
		but loss and death 
		endings, all endings 
		and asforlove, forlove, forlove: 
		i know the face i shall see 
		at the final zero 
		i have tasted the Teeth of paradise 
		and i have seen the Teeth of paradise 
		and i will know them Again 
		briefly: 
		but i took You into fields of rape 
		forgotten: 
		our children dress in lace 
		2121 the throats 2121 
		their throats 
		all the unsung promises i hoped to catch to hear 
		the throats humming in my mind 
		of Inmostlights hung in trees 
		with the walkways and swings 
		the roundabouts spiralling 
		In on themselves 
		IT IS ALL EMPTY 
		my mouth would wish to cut Your throat 
		i have controlled it with a crucifix 
		until now whilst 
		the blood makes another 
		useless halo for us 
		the gold the throat 
		the teeth 
		and there over there 
		the starres are out 
		theInmostLight prepares His FinalFire 
		
		... there may well be ways to catch the silence. as the
		words pour like honey from our mouths - as they yap
		and pour sweetness that rots our teeth and others
		ears, and we weave gross nets of nothings to try and
		to trap meaning into this world so without meanings -
		we must look into a mirror and see our lips forming a
		series of a hundred rows of nothings. we must look into
		the mirror: see the selfsaneimage englassed and
		blabbing away into eternity. from the mirror a small
		step to the windows: the smudges and stains tell us of
		the myriad faces till they might crack against the
		glass: as they mouth that wide hopeless
		OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, it is impressed, by the grace
		of LordNothing foreverandever, into the structure - the
		smudges are inside the pane... no-one shall know us,
		nor ever shall... and love, I believe, does not exist... and
		on the starres march... on and on and on... to oblivion...
		and so we fall under the hooves of all the pretty little
		horses... and we see clearly, now, TheInmostLight.
		"Some day I think I shall strange my soul." 
		
		quoted by Arthur Symons in A Study In The Fantastic