And I too, one of them
in this dark room:
I breathe. The cold
trickles into my corpse:
My last bath. Clenched
palms hold a few bright
beams: I lose
my soul’s support –
I want it to rise:
I see it rise.
And I too, one of them
in this dark room:
I breathe. The cold
trickles into my corpse:
My last bath. Clenched
palms hold a few bright
beams: I lose
my soul’s support –
I want it to rise:
I see it rise.