I move across a silence


    that seems to be


    the empty plane of oblivion-


    a land whose primal languors


    afflict the will,


    whose fallen light and dream-horizoned sky


    proffer the world''s faltering memories.


    I hear a voice that sings


    some old-world song,


    magical and clear


    or catch a glimmer


    of a fox darting into the darkness,


    A silence,


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    A voice that only I can hear


    that sings to me,


    and now I must muse


    on passions that unfold,


    and the ghosts that dwell


    on the other side of the sea,


    weeping in the night


    as they call to me.


    Yet I cannot leave this place,


    as I stare down


    at my own lifeless eyes,


    wondering, wondering


    whatever became


    of the man I was before.