I am dark in the midst of gales - flame of god
falling with goan into abyss - like deaf bell of north
I am in blackness of mountains exciting crimson of aurora
spark of mine pains, star of my prostration.

I am comets' king - spirit sedition on my own
I am dust of desert in scat pyramid
I am thunderbolt of storms - but calmer than cenotaph
In my graves I hide death and disgust

I - abyss of rainbows - but I would be crying over my self
like cold wind on limp canes of lake
I am shine of volcano - but in march valleys
I am walking like burial, with monotony and mourning

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