Stairs which is not Here


Along the stairs
We might lose the Melody of steps
Among the riuned-hedges of world
Among the passions of joy
Hath broken my loy
on which thy graspless hopes set pride of the Dead

Among the stairs
no plot stays
no colour
neither Odour
And the Dismal breath of sighers, immortal names
echoes through our hollow veins

The sign of being
shatters into nebula of our postponed Birth
Therein plots no dream
but third-rule of Pain
and judge of Rain
and our early death
beats in exhaust of stairs where no ME is there
Me, not myself,
the mighty Thirst



for the 3rd and the Mortal