Ephemeral

When the morn rose
            wrapt in its sombreness
                        birds flocked in droves
                                alighting here then everywhere

            picking, and lifting
                        sometimes pecking
            What is left when the rains arrive
melding All that remained into Gaia

old dust made us and to the dirt we will go
Is that a cry of the soul
or simply Mans crime against man
entrails fall, as W/we are disembowelled everyday
            Who knew what the night was
save it is black

     Where are Mine eyes,
who took My sight
Can I see the wondrous splendour of My beloved
Or Shall she remain

etched on the eyelids of My mind?