Barren slopes cover themselves with trees
The body is buried for a thousand years
Free the manuscript of such a powerful faith
Written in bone with a chisel of water
Unveiling
Not the fabric but the flesh

So many pearls to make one man
Spill them all in distrust
They roll away; a decapitated criminal
Golden blood, I say
Silver tendons
Bronze…
No
Porcelain features on clay skin
Raked away by iron fingernails
It shrieks and splatters on the crumbling walls
Now it is a fresco shattered into a mosaic
To be ground down to paste to be used
To make the paint once more
And there is no escape

What kind of power does this sword use as an excuse?
I cry out “Righteousness!”
But the wind is ready with its rebuttal:
“How can that be
Oh hypocrite
Oh betrayer
Oh umibozu
Your echo is your own suffering
Is this not your wish?”

Dreaming into the ocean, my ideas fill with water
They hold me down
So far down
I shall suffocate effectively
Let the pressure come and crush me into a new shape
The storms above may carry me far
That would be a pleasant change
But still, I shall rain back to earth again

The sun hates us all
It will burn us away as soon as the storm passes
Fearful as it is now
Water is transparent, darkening
What options do I have?
Do you not see?

Pious and defiled!
Violent and submissive!
Doomed and desired!
You shall see soon enough
The truest nature of my composition
When you have finally torn me apart

The serpent is coming
The serpent has arrived