the ways of the eagles
the sharpness of men
was tempered
by the lust for the green valleys
and translucent fishes clothed in bear furs
old people taught me the ways of the eagles
I travelled there in my sleep
walked among the mountain eyries
fresh crescent on my legs
smooth beaks breaking meat of the rabbits
tearing out feathers for my hair
moonlight ascends
when my wolves are howling
the loudness of the trees speaks
will you ever love me bruised?
will the gods love a child that is lost?
oh, they told me
about the far away places
my eyes of the skies
my eagles
slicing clouds
no time for prayers in churches or fields
the ways of the eagles
shall never be known to men
only the bitterness will flutter
the bitterness of the end of days
will remain
beneath the cracked floors
in their broken bones
