I. Procession

To feel the twinkling and twitching
Of every little nerve
Of that very vein
That brings the first flash
Of the fullest flood

Bruised like dusk descending
We're falling down broken stairs

Counting our numbered days
Until the end mark lands square
Over flooded mourning eyes
Closed coffins and failed dawns

Slow centuries of cyclic moons
Deprive the past the right to sleep
Now we're shoveling
Loose dirt in passed hearts
Are we digging a trench
Or merely carving our own graves?
The earth is trembling

The miner's scratch walls
While the beggars just sleep;
One coughing up dust
The other dying for meaning
Both blinded by the light they seek

The glow of the sun
Rusted and westward sinks
Each wounded day
Nursed back by the night
Darkness divine
Restores the weak

Light blurs the lines
Until we just disappear
Do we just disappear?