the wind was down through the trees echoing against the hidden balconies of night and i alone knew in the dark the deep tone of my nothing in time as hollow as strings through the thin trees what man can claim knowledge less his judgement pass over the hung hurdles of mere men for we came slowly and saw dimly and were too quick to build ramparts around to protect the eyes the fingers the frantic heart. and what strange things are these i asked what strange towers o people my people what great three-faced lie have we done us in here and no one dared answer and above us the mountains sat as still as before inside their folds and grinned down to the smiling valleys and talked but did not speak the wind a violin howl is down through the trees laughing along the grinning balconies of night laughing along the stringless void of my sigh and singing that maybe now it's too late
Reason for writing:
life
Birth sign: Not entered
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