The early hour desert sand mills like hearts churning
Conscious blood filled electric coke distilled from burning
Ground cast up into dust from the first age of Assuan stone
Sand pebbles blow with Syenitic old words in bags of bone

Primeval gardens of family love to till perś e is chosen
Reveal the promised lands of hour goblets to grow in
At peace the heaven’s sleep weary of going home
Return as dust to primordial winners holding bags of bone

Tides roil to mound to cirrus seas that carry grandeur
Fertile mind untwists vines wrung of life to hand her
The wry mind clouds and storm ice ablution rains to clone
The demodulated diction of animal man in the bags of bone

The lamb drinks at the river’s edge in spite of freight
The dreamers weave a mathematics of beautiful insight
Disobedience reveres pagan tribes and Rome
All roads that run a foul of that bag of bones

The lift of the fielder’s hand defends the stores of man
Safe keeping the substance in the spirit of nature’s plans
Rivers move so may ships with dry bags shown
Expose the beauty by the pebbles and bones

Weathering soul turns the pitch that peals the hull
From beauty’s value sand and pebble bone and skull
Mentors in the science of the ablution of clones
Tattoo the totems that briefcase the bones

In the spirit created in him
In them for him and by him in them
By spirit light the stars are shone
A coming forth by day from bags of bone

The core of warped old-worlds tumble to spell the seas of sand
As toil is sure to scale and range to hedge the bets of man
The lord of nome as the breath of solar winds atone
Man emerges as grebes from skies of seas of bags of bone.