Friday, April 02, 2004
time for a poem of dubious quality:
Devourer of Worlds
The moon turned, its face drawn
I ate the stars, then, one by one
Their light burned, was soon gone
I think that next I'll eat the sun
Its ember, too, will quickly die
And leave here just the moon and I
In the cold, empty sky
---
I had a vision last night of myself as the wolves of Ragnarok, crashing over the earth in a wave of darkness. My metaphors are muddled, but my intentions are good.
says me
Devourer of Worlds
The moon turned, its face drawn
I ate the stars, then, one by one
Their light burned, was soon gone
I think that next I'll eat the sun
Its ember, too, will quickly die
And leave here just the moon and I
In the cold, empty sky
---
I had a vision last night of myself as the wolves of Ragnarok, crashing over the earth in a wave of darkness. My metaphors are muddled, but my intentions are good.
says me
