"Still falls the rain,the veils of darkness shroud the blackened trees,
which, contorted by some unseen violence,shed their tired leaves,
and bend their boughs toward a gray earth of severed bird wings.
Among the grasses, poppies bleed before a gesticulating death,
and young rabbits, born dead in traps,stand motionless,
as though guarding the silence that surrounds and threatens to engulf
all those that would listen. Mute birds, tired of repeating yesterdays
terrors,huddle together in the recesses of dark corners, heads turned from the dead, black swan
that floats upturned in a small pool in the hollow.
There emerges from this pool a faint,sensual mist,that traces
its way upwards to caress the feet of the headless martyr's statue
whose only achievement was to die too soon,and who couldn't wait to loose. The cataract of darkness forms fully,the long black night begins,
yet still by the lake a young girl waits.
Unseeing she believes herself unseen,
she smiles faintly at the distant tolling bell, and the still falling rain."