Passing Over

Passing over all the dark blades All the dark blades of the forewords In the forewords, just a low sound Such a low sound passing over Drawing closer, sheer horizon Flame horizon, haze of morning Magnets drawing over the forewords Now entangle all tomorrow Gone, gone, through crumbled fingers gone Can never be recollected All pastness gone to the crumbled dogma-ing past Can never be recollected Passing over all the dark blades