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Gold and Bronze and Earthy Hues, red Vermillion and yellow Ochre,
Three Bronze Bracelets around your wrist, two Gold Rings and a Copper Coin.
I laid you in a Coffin of Peat, down Lindow way, laying a bulrush at your feet,
That I would make a History of your Being, a Mystery of your Name.
Drawn Circumfrance round Your heart, at fifty Paces to each compass Point,
The Silver Gun of the Patriarch, The Gold embedded jewels of the Mother,
The Copper Coils of the Labourer, The Iron Knife of the Destitute.
Then 'round your neck Barbed Wire Strung, and pulled tight to the Barbarity of our Time.
Would that you had Lain Quietly, Lied to the Ear of the World,
Would that you had Treaded Softly, Dreaded not to Question.
Were i A fool to have Laid with you, you who would not Lie Still,
Did i But quest for you, you would've Questioned All.
Would you Curse me, for Stealing your Martyrdom, to make Mere Sacrifice,
Would you Spit at Me, for not letting you kiss Ash but Soil,
Did it Soil your Soul, for such Demise.
Maybe you Shall, become Martyr after all, a Martyr to Prosperity,
Not lost to the Ashes of a Revolutionary that would not let you Prosper.
I who Laid you in a coffin of peat, in Glorious Hues of Earth’s love,
Do now i Turn and See the setting sun, Burn Bright Red to Bless you.
There is Ash on the Horizon now, Smoke in grey against the setting sun,
They are burning now, they all are Burning Now.
Will they Leave anything, or mere Remnants of Anguish,
The Sun was wounded too You See, Wounded into Bleeding.
I do not dare to Dwell here long, Lest they disturb your Dwelling Longer.