The Graphics of the Branches Look Chinese

The sun sinks but it burns like a great fire; All the sky’s aflame with fierce intent; Who thinks of death as weakness, is a liar Before the end our glory must be spent. The graphics of the branches look Chinese As blackened brush is drawn across red silk Infinite yet countable my days Running like a river without silt Thus I am not transcendent in myself But joined to all that lives I feel I am. So in conjunction we will find our health Ambivalence contains both lion and lamb. The fire of orange leaves me with a glow As into night I with all creatures go