A Ballad That We Do Not Perish

Those who sailed at dawnbut will never returnleft their trace on a wave—a shell fell to the bottom of the seabeautiful as lips turned to stonethose who walked on a sandy roadbut could not reach the shuttered windowsthough they already saw the roofs—they have found shelter in a bell of airbut those who leave behind onlya room grown cold a few booksan empty inkwell white paper—in truth they have not completely diedtheir whisper travels through thickets of wallpapertheir level head still lives in the ceilingtheir paradise was made of airof water lime and earth an angel of windwill pulverize the body in its handthey will becarried over the meadows of this world