My blistered feet
Turn bloody
So i take to the air,
And i am everywhere, i am starlight
I am moonlight
Over burning fields and bodies.
I stay close to the ground,
Slipping miles from the arches and arc-lights,
Into the warm night...
My winged children, all
Will fly over the mountain wall
To the lid of the sky,
And slice its belly full wide
With their warm knives
-not the pin-pricks of starlight-
But to bathe in the bright blood
Of the world,
Of the world above.