Our mother wears her jewelry, Her absinthe veils and topaz lights,

Running over tilting flagstones, Eyes that watch my reckless pace,

After midnight When the Muse dances

Long ago, I left the dolls behind.

We are the ones who were left behind When the angels came, on plumes of light,

I'm safe. I put a perfect ring of salt around me.

dark it is in the morning

So I set out. Am I a lonely man with staff in hand?