The sea returns upon the men, The fields entrap the children, brick Is a weed and all the flies are caught, Wingless and withered, but living alive. The discord merely magnified. Deeper within the belly's dark Of time, time grows upon the rock.

Slowly the ivy on the stones Becomes the stones. Women become The cities, children become the fields And men in waves become the sea.

The blue guitar And I are one.

Behold The approach of him whom none believes, Whom all believe that all believe, A pagan in a varnished car.

The appeal to heaven breaks off. The petals begin to fall, in self-forgiveness. It is a flower. On this mountainside it is dying.

All beings come from little, and little is needed for them to come to nothing.

The years like great black oxen tread the world, And God the herdsman goads them on behind, And I am broken by their passing feet.