Maybe for their sins, maybe on the way home
Maybe a good riddance, maybe something else
Like stones
Like roots
Like worms
We'll be getting used
Twilights and gods wandered off to their corners
Yawning tore the horizon in two
Hour after hour
Year after year
Century after century
We'll be getting used
Something white and blind has settled in my chest
Maybe blizzard maybe moth maybe everything that awaits me
Maybe thirst
Maybe noon
Maybe soot
We'll be getting used