I know you dread
the not knowing the end.
And I know the ringing of bells
from the other shore,
makes you rattle like autumn leaves.
I know you mistake the angels,
for a screaming flock,
in wicked ecstasy.
I know if we catch the arms of the willow,
and swing to the coast of our dreams,
the last wrecks of reason,
of wind and mystique.