And as she sleeps around her bed   the blinding deadbled world spins   Black sightless firepierced black universe   Empty the fire as she sleeps   The sleepy skeletontongued world   Massed blast of storms and sand rolls   Oh lovely world - come alive for me   The long tongued god is not real   He drags the chain clasped in his wicker fingered hands   This brother is paper thin - form but no substance   Never lived, so he is not dead   This is man's fear made trash      And as you light the incense stick   I pray that your fingers may burn