The Dark Suite


Suffer with grace the moment
Forgive your wish to clasp pain long gone
Nostalgia is more leaden than lead itself
Gold of birds in mute winglessness

Jump with grace from The Tower
Mount glorious dull Star that allows your seeing
The chamber is not destined to be your secret
Lament your mortar, keep on building

Radical rest is not dead blood
In static you hear nothing of ecstatic colour
Purpose hides in tiny infinite
A chariot lies behind the tumour

Murder the ticking that can’t be bothered
Stop its blood without losing a drop
Bear agony of flowers knowingly beautiful
Be yourself sweet nothing one