But over them hang the kites!
And the path grows dark as the laws
And the kites drop down in a ring,
Till a blind stag torn by the slashing claws
Is the end of the trumpeting!
It is there and there that your fathers rot!
I am Destiny’s halter! Unloose me not!
The mirror of Wisdom shines
Like a face in a troubled pool.
Like the eyes of a snake are its weaving signs