The Heads Of Strong Old Age Are

Shiva... Is The Only Hunter That Will Ever Catch The Wild Swan; The Prey She Will Take Last Is The Wild White Swan Of The Beauty Of Things. Then She Will Be Alone, Pure Destruction, Achieved And Supreme, Empty Darkness Under The Death-tent Wings. She Will Build A Nest Of The Swan's Bones And Hatch A New Brood, Hang New Heavens With New Birds, All Be Renewed.

Justice And Mercy/ Are Human Dreams, They Do Not Concern The Birds Nor The Fish Nor Eternal God.

He Is Strong And Pain Is Worse To The Strong, Incapacity Is Worse.

They Import And They Consume Reality.

The Tides Are In Our Veins, We Still Mirror The Stars, Life Is Your Child, But There Is In Me Older And Harder Than Life And More Impartial, The Eye That Watched Before There Was An Ocean.