when you were a child, you were a tomboy and your mother laughed at the serious way that you looked at her and from your window at night there were the star's little fires and the armory lights you were tracing the lines of a globe with your fingers: cool rivers, white wastes desert shores, and the forest green and a limitless life in the breath of each tide and each bright mountain, rising but now the boys are away, and such kicks they are having; slashing away at the forest walls, with their bitter knives. sparks bloom in their eyes, and they never look tired. will they never look tired? on cliffs that tower from the rising seas their bonfire glow where a tiger lies and, cleaning their weapons, they laugh at his useless claws, and all: it is a beautiful night to be born to this life and grind his every bone to powder! do you remember do you remember she carried you down to the edge of the dark river and said: though the water is wide, you will never grow tired you are bound to your life like a mother and child. you will cling to your life like a suckering vine and like the rest of our kind you will increase and increase past all of our dreaming horse without rider lungs without breathing day without light song without singing a song...