Outside, the stars are falling
            Like pebbles in a well, mountains
            Sifting like salt in the hissing sea.
            The dark is near, hell is closer still,

            All this talk of pits and fires,
            of saving and wanting, it's not
            interesting anymore, not here.
            The body is going on vacation.
            The body is taking a leave,
            as in gone, as in not there anymore.
            The body is mythic gone, elapsed,

            The ice changes its colors
            depending on whatever leaves or
            enters its body. The light changes

            its texture depending on whatever
            takes or touches its mind. The angels
            above slip their hands in the pockets