IX

Stone and cathedral it is raining on your thin bridge

clouds a procession the sky a great funeral of light.

Midbridge my hands open I drop into the sable stream

my frivolous faith where it rejoins the futility of water.

Who is struggling there, is it you veterans of apostasy

tell me if you know what is the rain's purpose.

What is the use of this inchoate fury ever precipitate

what is this thin bridge to nowhere. What am I.