Of a beaten backbone, a drenched a rock that keeps me safe.
The wind is harsh,
And I feel blood in it,
And I turn my head, eyes, and ears,
But leave no more,
And ever.
Ever leaving.
I sweep my backbone,
Over the land, in winding escapes,
Of breeze over desert heat and carnivorous things,
For even the Sun, ever,
A great enemy,
In lands so strategic.
I bow down by nightfalls
And moons
Each night letting the death of the day sweep off me,
Or whind down with me.
Sometimes carrying it into many many more days.
My ancestors breathe through my roots,
Up and escaping,
Vines flamboyant and draping,
Reaching towards yet another dawn's day.
I die,
I arise,
With her; glorious!
The Moon, just two sides,
Of the Sun's face.
They are lover's
Never,
To meet.
