The Night Sign

The lamps that stare,
And the silence unaware
All the while in squalor chanting,
Purified incense all-decanting,
Spoken in a glare.
All that is taken as truth,
And then rebuked.

Lingering-man, sullen sins ever-keeping!
Observes the lips that quietly know,
And sings the song of songs although
The mother is above in crimson, weeping.

I am the night-sign,
The night sign!
The way I lose my mind.