lanx australis

in the dark old town that lay stark in the city
in times deep and drowned under skies bleak and gritty 
on ground without grounding in tears without eyes 
the young preacher sounded with silver-gold cries

and people did listen as if they could hear
and eyes without glistened though inside they feared
and darkness was outside though inside was worse
but better to bring pride than ring with a curse

and lightning did strike in the hall of the smote
and sat like a jewel in the congregate coat
so burning away with the chants of the dead
the journey of gray waited knelt by the bed