Easter

Here in this shroud of light

Centuries staring at me through the haze

In a slow demise

Lines of a song looking away

In a slow demise

In a low streaming of scent

In a touch of Gloria

I see your face

Let’s have the night

And drink from the chalice

In rivers of Saturn

Bodies pass me by from the tide

In this sin

A desire, pollutes the skies of the town

Determines the upraising

The oldest breach of the caste, roaring out loud

Here in a shroud of fright

Pages of madness staring at me

Lines of a song atavic

Veins of a son taken away

In a slow demise

In a low streaming of scent

In a touch of Gloria

I see your face