Nothing shall seduce speech, anew, nothing,
Should siren ship, passing in the stark night
Of the soul, shout out, sending a mute king
Sweet words to delight destined to seem trite.
Where answers are sought, uncertain whispers
Die unheard, vowing nothingness its quiet...
Monastery's nave at midnight's vespers
Swallowing sound so echoes surprise it.
"Broad breakers of this brine-swept, barren sea
Enshroud lips with silence as seekers pray,
Though you are endless, so are we. Wash free
Buttressed barnacles that will swill salt spray,
From wasted legs", today's grotesque signposts
For destinations, Death's devotion hosts.
--Fr. Veni di Morte
copyright 1998, The Goober Tree Press, all rights reserved