Proffer the holy ash
To darken all
To cease to exist
Crags and clefts
The shadow cast
Elegy to this beatific
Black and red
The winter's warmth
Of ash and pumice
Make a grave
For our broken trail
To arrive at being all again
To reach satisfaction in all
To revile the earthly loam of all
Our spirits have been exhorted
Before the rosy dawn of white
The desire of the sea with its thousand breasts
Sensation of voluptuousness
All we have burnished
In times of despair
Through days of sorrow
Riding all alone
Abluted ocean
Our buried sopor
Falling ashes
Breaking into pieces
Sacred fire
Peering
Staring
Courses of stone
Prying
Gazing
At the temple
Ascending mounds to find
Ascending mounds to light
Our fires over this sea
Our airs over this soil
I am the wanderer, I am the soul of stone
This is my shade of pain, this is my only flame
This is the last day
This is the last hour
Of our Pompeii
Of this collapsing green
All our founts have dried up
Even the sea has receded
All the ground tried to gape
But the depth will not swallow
Out of glass coffins did burnt life gaze upon me
All life had I renounced, so I dreamed, so I am
