We will see nothing
Until we see the logic
Of a dove. Or until
We derive the causes
Of fire from the ends
Of all the fires of the
Earth. We will not
Sleep until the heavens
Return to us dressed
In the light of old age.
We will not rest. Our
Rest will not become us
Until the fire dies out.
We will extrapolate our
King from the ruins of
Derelict appartments and
Controlled demolitions.
Our only light by fuel.
We will dig God from
Where he lies buried
In a field of starlight.
Our love will be honest,
For it will not speak.
Come under our shade,
Child of the dark, and we
Will read to you from
The words of our Lord.