Twilight and children opening their eyes to the moonlight with old sunlight in their hair cooling slow. On blue fleshy petals they dance naked, skyclad and barefoot in the morning dew. The soft dead cries violently born anew. The young praise the stars of the night sky; they laugh and wane like darkness and flow wherever dreams go.
Daylight and men closing their eyes to the sunlight with old moonlight in their blood burning slow. On the spines of the poor they dance crooked, white-collared in wing-tipped shoes. The living dies, silently setting again. The old salute the stars of a striped flag; they ache and shrivel in the earth and fade, as the sunlight wilts and withers tonight