Ben Daoust 

Do you see the sky descend:

Each star falling, end by end,

Loose as all the days gone by,

Slipping softly from the sky?

All collapses, all must fade,

Leaving dead in earth they made,

Prisoners beneath the stone,

To cry, then pray, then cry alone:

“Leave me not beneath this ground,

No more flesh, no shape, no sound;

No shelter from the creeping chill

That hunts, and leaves the lost to kill.

We who live outside the law

Are left to rot in tooth and claw!”

Some are raised with splintered grace,

Torn from cross, from time, from place,

fruits of pity, pity them all. 

Each soul must bear a form to wear;

Each form holds two hearts laid bare.

From this, doubt begins to grow,

Whispers lies and will not go.

Lilies bloom beneath their tread,

Through worn shoes, toward waiting dead.

Still they stand,no voice, no flame,

Fragile things without a name.

They think, the think, he think(s),

Letting fire seize him, dying weary,

While the maggots feast already.