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I break the night of pangs. The day starts dawning.
Uncork the box. Soon flees the swarm of flies.
Now blindly dreaming. “She arouses yawning?”
I ask, may help, and kiss the crowd of ties.

I must take care her cave is closed next morning.
Her body lacks, she’s wounded and she dies.
Her bones take in desire the next pawning.
The bugging voice keeps silent in the skies.

The young girls head erects. She hears me fawning.
Releasing her’s so hard. The blackbird cries.
It knows that out of her a star’s aborning.
I’m different, I cling to these my lies.

I have a look, at last, some quiet adorning,
While sun emerges, and I watch her rise.

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