When the forests have been destroyed their darkness remains

The ash the great walker follows the possessors

Forever

Nothing they will come to is real

Nor for long

Over the watercourses

Like ducks in the time of the ducks

The ghosts of the villages trail in the sky

Making a new twilight

Rain falls into the open eyes of the dead

Again again with its pointless sound

When the moon finds them they are the color of everything

The nights disappear like bruises but nothing is healed

The dead go away like bruises

The blood vanishes into the poisoned farmlands

Pain the horizon

Remains

Overhead the seasons rock

They are paper bells

Calling to nothing living

The possessors move everywhere under Death their star

Like columns of smoke they advance into the shadows

Like thin flames with no light

They with no past

And fire their only future