From between the tangled legs of the trees

A thousand leagues buried in the oyster of the Earth

Lay it's pearl, entombed in the roots of the ancient wood

And one day it was alive.

 

And it said "These people are freed of all scars

healed of all wounds

And cured of all illness

In their bodies and minds

Should they give them to me, and only to me."

 

And so it took their bodies

And from them it had identity.

He was red in his body and pale in his face

And his eyes forever watched those who dreamed beautiful dreams of him.

But when one returned his gaze, we could only watch them fade.

 

Then he took their names.

He never named himself, as none would address him.

He was called by many "my love", and to others

he was spoken of as a ship that sailed on daylight

but carried only plague.

 

Only once, the horizon was cast over him

And behind he left only the nameless and shapeless

Whose home was now with the dirt he'd overturned.

In the sky there remain his clouds.

Those eyes hang inside, and we think he still glances us.