by Carl Thunem
- Oil on canvas by Mondrian
The milk of divine kindness curdles in my loins.
Dry and dusty cobwebs litter the recesses of my mind,
Clinging thereto are the hollow husks of hallowed dreams,
Marrow and blood sucked out,
Empty, false, hollow husks of hallowed dreams.
Spinning, weaving, knitting together a world in the dark,
A measureless endless whorling whirling twirling
Vomited forth from center
A ghastly ghostly grasping
A desperate search. A sickness unto death.
A shadow, an apparition, flits about, to and fro,
And is frozen, blinded as the world is shot through as by light.
Slowly the vision fades and passes, the world passes into night,
And the apparition flits about once more, to and fro,
Empty, false, hollow husks of hallowed dreams.
