The glistening of a brazen eye
binds the spirits to the sky,
cursed to wander far off God's green Earth.
A torrid anger circles by;
scorch the seas and flood the sky;
winced away through thirty slivers of hurt.
But how does one stand to a foe as this?
Eyes bowed down and with parted lips.
A trembling heart is to will an indictment.
Riven are the smiles of this predicament.
Stricken am I who rents dirt
from an artful Bedouin of scanty worth
to trade for soil sated with shining silver.
Hedge the boundaries of this turf;
repel the stains of needless perks;
all but time turn sweet things bitter.
But why must one stand to foes as these?
Eyes bowed down on buckled knees.
A shattered heart is to will an impediment.
Razed be this world with our smiles as sediment.
