1

Above him towers the city. It glares gold,
Soft blue encloses it. A snapping dog
Defines the night beneath.

A gleaming ball
Rolls in his brain. Forever turns the day –
The daylight takes the city to its chest –
The ball holds still, and on the city shines.

2

Strummed music, faintly... as of far appeal
For lover lost to death. On mountain's point
Perches the heavy stone.

The wheel groans, stuck;
The one who strains for drink forgets his thirst;
Torn liver knits and heals. At gushing stream
Brass sieves are dropped aside.

Subdued and staid,
Each creature settles: snarling and fraught moans
Subside behind a veil. It seemed so clear
Such hopelessness should cease – some bright device
Of stranger enter, touching strains by dark,
Hushing the vexed world in its toil of grief,
Stilling the nerves and flesh.

The one who dreams
Of orb views city's gates: direct above,
Harsh rays flash down. The doors reveal their night.

3

Down chambers – under towers, in the depth,
Yet echo lyre notes. All the instruments
Of torment languish.

So am I redeemed?
He wonders. Fiery cog grinds, shuddering;
Twin vultures halt their feast; the forty-nine
Sieves lie in idleness; and fruit tree pulls
Back boughs no more.... So are we shades relieved –
Drawn from the dog's gorge, brought through golden door?
Who brushes strings with fingertips by dark?
The music sounds, the light drops momently.

4

On peak, the rock yet teeters. This new age,
Night's depth rests soundless – for an age, gold glow
Floats still above the city.

In his mind
Bright ball forever rolls. The lyre strums
And plucks yet in his ear – and world seems poised
Upon steep reverie: trespasses, prides
Forgiven, all undone, and time turned round
To deathless minute.... Soaring city seethes
With rays from blue above.

Does it still play,
That instrument, some long ways off – or sound
Its notes only within his memory?