poem

i see all human wits
out of the deep and the dark
i never knew the earth had so much gold
since i have felt the sense of death
the arches of the red bridge
gone are the three, those sisters rare
uplifting, as the wind blew
just as my fingers on these keys
sadly speaking
lady, your heart has turned to dust
perhaps it is no matter that you died
why do
at dawn, he said