The Palace is the lonely place of Truth
and towers of flesh
filled with glittering hearts,
like diamonds pumping blood.

See through me this land of kohl
that heats at the touch of a hand,
of dates that swell in the mouth's own juice,
and slaves exquisite as Death.

I taste the fruit of the Universe,
the wealth of the world flows into me,
but I am exiled in the Land of Plenty,
peon of Eternity.

My god is the emptiness of no-return,
the distilled essence of gold.
My god is the Kingdom
of the modality of noble souls.

Death is in my mouth tonight.
His skin is scented with myrrh.
Death is in my house.
I feel his fever.

I sit on the shores of Drunkenness
outcast from the river of days.
I am one who wishes for home,
an end to life's captivity.

[after verse by Akhenaton, 14th century B.C.]