How life and death
are clinging to each other
like wraps and woofs
timelessly
in the incessant
textile
of time.
As
each warbling breather of the daylights
braids into the night's strands of nullity.
Remorselessly the lover, the hero
drove the vile thistle vessel of devotion
in his blood
to his heart
to tender
the red rose of his death
to the love
of life.
