i rise
i try
i tire
i cry -
i close my eyes.
it is all over
before it has begun.
holding a handful of nothing
i can smell the incense burning,
prayers for my soul are said
by someone in the distance,
and i am grateful
but I have no soul so
the ghost eternal is open,
a cloud of substance
on the two-worlds border
is washed in darkness,
it is time to move on...
- from London Works
