This Night Wounds Time
They knew you as a symptom of decay,
A distension in the frame of your mind,
Entranced, perhaps too long in the deep,
Inventing your space and your time,
Pushing the line, planning an escape.
Without warning, unshackled, unmasked,
You stole a day from the sun, unholy monk,
And burned it to ashes to dust
to a river of ether,
Reduction of matter to form,
A habit of thinking
Like whispers in the wind.
They sent an ambassador in white
Ashes in his jargon
Two misplaced eyeballs
Rolling like pebbles
On his wooden tongue;
They had you undone
And stuffed with straw
And stuck in the mud
Without warning, without form,
Like the silence on your mouthless face,
Permanently impressed on the frame of the stars.
Thank you for visiting TNWT; your comments will be appreciated.
This page was last updated on September 8, 1996, Nicosia, Cyprus.
© 1996 Tefkros Symeonides
The palace is from a painting by Enki Bilal.
The scrolling text is from "Get 'Em Out By Friday" by Genesis, 1972.
The bird rider is from a painting by Moebius (Jean Giraud).