friendship poem

when i go back to earth
if the red slayer think he slays
we break the glass whose sacred wine
last night the full moon laid a cloth of white
made up of loveliness alone
all within and all without me
do not grieve that it is over
tripping up, falling down
within this lowly grave a conqueror lies
my mother taught me that every night
the agony of having too much power
i shake my hair in the wind of morning