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I look to Death
and ask her why,
she replies that by the sky
her mandarin flares like
nightborn scorns, mourn
'till mourning peeks up
through the rice paddies
and morning peeks down
into the cavern, little
eyes rushing like flies
of golden spittle from
some rabid deity ready to
try to eat the sky.
(is in sight as the glades
wilt into the wilderness of the
stem of the tree of life that mortal
strife knows not a trifle of
the broadening leaves)
I look to Death
and ask her why,
she replies that by the sky
and morning peeks down
into the cavern, little
eyes rushing like flies
of golden spittle from
some rabid deity ready to
try to eat the sky.
(but never for too long!)
get up get up get
up into the air as the Mother of All
And how do I know? I asked her about it
and she told me so,
and I asked her about her
and she told me no.
(but never for too long!)
I look to Death
and ask her why,
she replies that by the sky
her mandarin flares like
nightborn scorns, mourn
'till mourning peeks up
through the rice paddies
and morning peeks down
into the cavern, little
eyes rushing like flies
of golden spittle from
some rabid deity ready to
try to eat the sky.
and how do I know? I asked her about it
and she told me so,
and I asked her about her and
she told me no.
I look to Deathand ask her why,
she replies that by the sky
her mandarin flares like
nightborn scorns, mourn
'till mourning peeks up
through the rice paddies
and morning peeks down
into the cavern, little
eyes rushing like flies
of golden spittle from
some rabid deity ready to
try to eat the sky.
(but never for too long!)