Joolz Requiem
Slowly, slowly, the heavy golden days
Slide past like honey off a spoon
The fire hisses and the wind outside
Shakes the windows in their frames
People pass outside, their lives like tramlines
Moving in some silent, ritual passage
Faces blank as water, their eyes folded and secret
Clutching themselves to themselves
Corsetted and strapped against the world's tricks...
Nothing makes them jump
These autumn weeks slip past
Like a timeless river, never to return
A sightless melancholy washes the faces, and the streets;
They say that those who die from exposure
At the end, cuddle in their snow shrouds
As if a were a lover's arms
Warm and sleepy as the Lady takes them home
For the last time;
As the storm clouds of hysteria thicken and rumble
On horizons far away
I wonder if this stupor is our last golden dream
And if we'll ever wake from it again