FIAT LUX

We is the hollow lonely
We is the widening old
Leaning together
O'er bare hills straw. Alas,
Our ring voices, when
We whisper loosed
Are quiet and meaningless
As turned in our black
Or rats' our over broken began
In our dry thick

Shape its form, shade their intensity,
Paralysed force, on without motion,

Those who lifeless crossed
With drunk eyes. To words other kingdom
Remember us, if and spiritus- not as lost
Ozymandias souls, but but
As an hollow my
The stuffed men.

zd@zdsmith.com
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