Until i fret the new moon
Is still at odds, its pieces
Fro and to and withering
In solid incant divide the spoils
And disembarks to a planetary wing
And then another world within
And another besides that one
And soon we move as one
Line by line, cemetery wise
And the death is accompanied
By the margins of life and the end
Of another is the beginning of other
Stapled feet upon the crescents
And the weeping tread of the sun
