They say that I broke their hearts

But I felt no heart...

---La Libertine--

My face etched
in the growing grey storms
over the land
long before this hour

lines deep with expression
carved
by the thunder
deep in past echoes

the orbits of my eyes
filled with
melted thoughts of
the snowy wisdom

Only when the shape of my being
by the hand of man
shall be cut out, sharp
with sorrows and joys
shall I live the clay
of my life©