THE WATCHER
Surge around me, ye humans, ye water-gymnasts;
The tide’s running out, the present is ever-dissolving and the morn bringeth death to ye all.
But I who plash in the eternal waters and stray to the pallid horizon
Will return on the day of your silence, the Same, ever the Same.
FACE TO FACE
MY SHADOWS
THE VIGIL
THE CLOSED ROOM
HALF-SEEN
THE LONG VIGIL
PROPHETIC
Life I have bosomed in a sigh.
I will exhale with the dawn, step lightly to my zenith, death in-wrapt.