Astarte

Wondering hands, the trees!
The naked stones of grey beauty,
Gathered to kiss the ground's hunger.
Extatic hate upon man's reply.
The war against human instinct.
I summon the dirty blood of what we are covered.
Still I watch the sky
I see within a cry.
For what we fear!
For the why we leave!
Naked hands, the forgotten trees.
Stare as I paint the last eagle.
The symbol of life
The black sign of the sky.