Artifacts Of The Black Rain

Staring there, leaning to the city moon Casting silhouettes tall to grip her white rooms The black clad voyeur in his black clad masque In the serpentine sun of tragedy basked Stood there cursing at the soul dead ma*s With their fabled illusions, vain dreams that pa*sed Splinters of a life rushing by in the whirl A lone silent warrior in a fantasy world He cried for night but night could not come So swept in the shroud of misanthrope, he went away And fed the empty galleries With the artifacts of the black rain Sunken into the shadows with a dry sardonic smile He made the footprints a part of his heart To rouse a sacred confrontation Stood at the carving on the monument telling lies Digging of the earth, making friends with the soil As the all mother rises and bares her bleeding thighs He disappears into her cold, icy womb