bleak heart

a boy stands in a field above the town

he does not know what the years will bring

dark night touches him and the rain

his spirit leaps in his imagining

 

a man writes at table in the dark

he wonders of all things what we are

spirits creatures matter worse

pitched forth comets about a dying star

 

tell me if all time is one time

and what is was and will be

was the boy already corrupt as he looked upon the town

am i already dead as i write