He tries to sink back through the earth,
Through iridescent slips of schist,
To where the rock can douse his eyes,
Quench fire of sight, dull iris light.
The space – which counts the stars as months,
And judges time by shadow falls –
where lives can howl and show their age.
Each tick of sun and moon: a death
Up here, where echoes never start,
He lays down low and feels through peat
The rocks beneath, the subtle heat,
The walls where blood is merged with night.
Unfreed, unbound, and lost beyond:
The air is thin and spiked with sound.
Step by step 