a song for douglas after he's dead

		he crouches on the floor there's a mask on the wall
		and he leafs through the pages of a book
		but wait as he may in the shadow of other leaves
		his heart in embraces to times long since scorched 
		
		the horizon folds over with a purple sunrise
		and the wind carries smoke from an earth that is burning
		the smoke locks in his hair and he's covered with patterns
		and the descent of his life-trees on his camouflaged soul 
		
		with a winter of memories carved powder-bone white
		beyond his skull's form a scorpion lies
		in the crunch of the snow as his darkness increases
		a twilight of ice encircles his teeth 
		
		this is a song for douglas after he's dead
		this is a song for douglas whose Mercury dances
		
		there's a swastika carved in the palm of his hand
		there's a crooked cross that is caught in his eyes
		there waits a falling sun in his eyes
		there's the honour of violence on his lips 
		
		his father waits for him near the Towers of Silence
		where they worship the fires so long quenched
		under two willow trees with elhaz inverted
		the fork of life snapped -
		there father and son shall mingle in dust
		as if life itself has been mostly illusion but partially real
		and partially pain 
		
		and over some wall
		if you look through the rubble
		amongst ruins of churches where life conquers death
		though empires cannot last
		where blood and soil's concepts have faltered and failed
		a cloud still sows teeth
		as the world disappears... 
		
		this is a song for Douglas after he's dead
		this is a song for my Douglas may his Mercury dance