...

Poem 1

VIII-MONTH.txt

I once dreamt about a man
In August (we trust)
A sense of dread suffocating the skies
The clouds dissipated aside
He shot a single arrow
And killed The Light.
The crumbling tower
Which he looked upon with disgust
A shower of fire
Dust will finally combust.
To the ground It fell
And the shadows soon will arise
And the Moon will devour the rest
So the hound left without distress.