Under the heavens, behemoths breathe

Phillip A. Ellis

Under the heavens, behemoths breathe
    under the stars, ghosts arise,
under the moon, twisted as wreaths,
    snaking vines of fume to the skies
    alight, occlude with lying guise.
Under the skies, under the powers
    gazing from high, sacrifices rise,
nothing, though, halts the pass of hours.

Picture, if you need, mothers grieve
    for children taken, slain, to rise
as vines in vain, vainly believe
    the gods would halt this. Clear you eyes
    and see: truly, something within lies
to say gods care for sparrow or flower,
    or dream the gods lend ear to our sighs;
nothing, though, halts the pass of hours.

All gods are deaf; and lies we weave
    in arras-hued delusions, prize
great as gold, opals teased
    from ugly earth. Such dreams, wise
    to say, fade before the cries
that rise as a tall, fantastic tower
    in dreams; though lies can ease one’s sighs,
nothing, though, halts the pass of hours.


    Raise all corpses, tear down skies,
bathe the world in a bloody shower,
    bring the gods low, all to die,
nothing, though, halts the pass of hours.


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