Beneath The Southern Cross

Oh To be Not anyone Gone This maze of being Skin Oh To cry Not any cry So mournful that The dove just laughs The steadfast gasps Oh To owe Not anyone Nothing To be Not here But here Forsaking Equatorial bliss Who walked through The callow mist Dressed in scraps Who walked The curve of the world Whose bone scraped Whose flesh unfurled Who grieves not Anyone gone To greet lame The inspired sky Amazed to stumble Where gods get lost Beneath The southern cross