It was the day that seared all days, with trembling rocks and frozen seas,
No order was like this before, no words were ever mute like these,
Oh, what to say, or think, or do? Or where to find my inmost self?
Whose words are shaping and for whom, this day’s old, dusty shelf?
Was I to rot in cell by cell, created from the dust of dust?
Whose death is being sold today, whose birth will be the last?
Then why so many claim, before this shadow-filled sunrise,
That they are me in all of I and I am in demise?
You laugh, I see… Whose sigh you mock today and why?
This blue-grey hat you wear, my friend, how dare you call it sky?
This chaos that you claim it is an order of your will
Is nothing but a raging dark, an evil at stand still…
Then a sparrow chirped away this morning’s wake-up call…
What a blessing is to see the sunshine after all!