inhale and slowly blow
the pearls fall from the quicksilver trees
splashing into the mirror of life
dissolving behind a fading curtain
of darkness
yet, reflected on the glimmering surface
the sky stretches itself out for sacrifice
arching like an unwilling offering . . .

and from the east the night rises
dark tentacles slithering over the countryside
so that only the owl remains
silently watching
two dark pools seeing all
and shrieking
it darts
and tears its prey to pieces
discarding the unsavoury brain and guts

the tiny skull falls into the shadow
its fearful eyes frozen in terror . . .
regarding the rustling night
as whispers of dread swirl through the trees
impaling the simple blood
dashing it with spite
splenetic to the core
casting it into the bottomless pool
of abhorrence and hate
the simple self
curling and screeching
and crying
as invisible claws
cut into its flesh
as they drag it under