For years I have walked

Never wanting to leave footprints in my wake.

For years I have spoken with a jilted tongue

Never wanting to spit out flowers.

I am left here as cold as the stones,

In caves and in oceans.

Isolation in a white room

Where dog-toothed smiles hunt me down.

Bones break like trees fall.

Still in the moving ocean of people

Time eclipses my mass of body.

Eyes blink,

Bloodshot from images which never seem to change.

Lost in a crowd

Still moving,

I stand

Still moving

I fear ghosts.

An image of desolation never can haunt what is already there.

The Book Of Ascension                                                                   Section 15