---

Wherever sought in this maze,
among them all, the senses rebel.
The architects of all we hold dear,
desired, only to be left alone.
Whenever the light takes hold
only the night will answer.

From nocuous hands to a bloodless mouth,
timid steps to awful ruins in
a heart more empty than the sun.

Whatever sown just withers and dies.
A harvest of defeat and defilade,
whenever words fail.
A wound of its own making.

From inmost sense to languid hope,
to speak of love in solemn tones to
a heart more empty than the sun.

But nothing is given for nothing:
I can take ending alone
like I began. Just please,
don't ask me to remember.

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