Dreaming of Wild Blackness

The dancers stop.

The dancers drop.

We applaud when we are sad,

low class lightning fill us all

   with odd feelings of helplessness.

We black our eyes for fun,

our gathering has eclipsed the sun.

We have to smile and fantasize,

we're all here now - black suits,

   black ties.

In still motion

we'll find life,

the things we'll learn

are as wild as red;

our goddess gave our souls

  new wings; we still won't fly

whenever she sings.

I'll pray a long, long time,

with the omens that death gives to me.

If I pray with living souls,

I'll remember what she sings

  to me: the love of death

when one is dead,

is a thornless rose, reborn;

the love of life,

when one's soul is sad,

is a diamond shattered

  and torn, we'll save our lives

  against the time that all will

  live again.

We'll dream our dreams,

and live our deaths,

and sing when we can.

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