This here is the thing. It is indicated
By a signal coming from a source,
Questioned by a desire for validity,
Soaking in a pool of vapour.
Language gives a structure
To imaginary fabrication
Whose existence is assumed
Quite without substantiation
Concrete metaphors convince
Whomsoever desires conviction;
These are entities vibrating
Autogenic deification.
Vine leaves winding round the clock hands
Are interpretations of time’s change
Like the lengthening shadows
Engaging the heat of the day
But once the night stars
Withdraw their spark into themselves
It is all over
Bar the wailing.
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