Here dance the husks
the husks of men
They dance through flames
they burn to ash
And drums they thump
The goat-skin drums
drums they thump
The fire roars
The fire cracks
Like beetle wings
The shadows of men
a dark-led dance
This ill wind,
Leaves, they spin
they glide, they whirl
too dry to rot
To ash, to star
All fall down, to rust
There it goes, the dust
There goes the dust
Away, the dust
To dusk-woven death
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Patiently still I listen and lay
For a creature of sand to come and say,
“To sleep with you, you weary wretch!
There are eerie dreams for you to sketch!”
A dark and warm inviting gaze
Emerges from blue twilight haze.
Heavy, my body sinks in a heap;
Weightless, I float through dizzying sleep.
Dream, young man. For your days are many.
But rest in the night while the world is uncanny.
That pulse is so loud; a thick throb in my ear.
Then silence twists through and there’s nothing to hear.
Cold, biting winds drag me slowly from slumber
With gusty white hands and my bed becomes sombre.
Grey in the light of a cold, rainy morning.
Please let me sleep more – away from the dawning.