From between the tangled legs of the trees
A thousand leagues buried in the oyster of the Earth
Lay it's pearl, entombed in the roots of the ancient wood
And one day it was alive.
And it said "These people are freed of all scars
healed of all wounds
And cured of all illness
In their bodies and minds
Should they give them to me, and only to me."
And so it took their bodies
And from them it had identity.
He was red in his body and pale in his face
And his eyes forever watched those who dreamed beautiful dreams of him.
But when one returned his gaze, we could only watch them fade.
Then he took their names.
He never named himself, as none would address him.
He was called by many "my love", and to others
he was spoken of as a ship that sailed on daylight
but carried only plague.
Only once, the horizon was cast over him
And behind he left only the nameless and shapeless
Whose home was now with the dirt he'd overturned.
In the sky there remain his clouds.
Those eyes hang inside, and we think he still glances us.