In a spiral of confusing pain
Memories absent hang on new desires
We disconnect from love and its cousins
We plunge to blackness, we are stricken, maimed
The shock of cold has altered love’s gold fires
To a blizzard of confusing pain
Some feel guilty; others flush with shame
For this holy love is not for hire
We must connect, with skill, the heart ‘s remains
Reckon not, account not, for the blame
Like the falcon in its programmed gyre
Turning, turning in delusions plain
The red sun gleams, the word is here, unveiled
Dread and woe make all men into liars
They disconnect from love and its travails
Struggling in the stuckness of the mire
In the camps with boundaries of barbed wire
In the triumph of the Nietzschean male
We were cursed and culture was derailed
How my heart sings 