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Shearwater Rook Leviathan Bound the hollow light is still on the fields where the winter has warmed and the snows have drained waway and the hunter's cry is still on the air as the bullet flies home but the heart that's pierced with it still is racing still is racing, alone. the silver shoals of the light in the deep brush the glitterin skein where the great, dark body writhes and the trembling jaw the unfathoming sounds of leviathan, bound as his heart, though weakening still is racing still is racing, alone you are racing you are racing, alone. |
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