Carrying vast burdens over the crags of chaos—
Waiting,
Like trees that hear the far-off moan of winds,
Like listening trees that hug their branches round them,
Their leaves whispering lividly the rumour of storms,
Waiting like a vast arch of quietness
Through which a screaming messenger shall dart—
Like a dense hood of silence
Pierced by a sword of music—
Waiting, like the deathly stillness of a pool