Still falls the rain,the veils of

darkness shroud the black-

ened trees,which,contort-

ed by some unseen violence, shed

their tired leaves, and bend their

boughs toward a grey earth of sev-

ered bird wings, among the grass-

es, poppies bleed before a gestic-

ulating death, and young rabbits,

born dead in traps, stand motion-

less, as though guarding the

silence that surrounds and threat-

ens to engulf all those that would

listen. Mute birds, tired of

repeating yesterdays terrors, hud-

dle together in the recesses of

dark corners, heads turned from

the dead, black swan that floats

upturned in a small pool in the

hollow. There emerges from this

pool a faint sensual mist, that

traces its way upwards to caress

the chipped feet of the headless

martyr's statue, whose only

achievement was to die too soon,

and who couldn't wait to lose.

The cataract of darkness form

fully, the long black night begins,

yet still, by the lake a young girl

waits, unseeing she believes her-

self unseen, she smiles, faintly at

the distant rolling bell, and the

still falling rain.