| City of blue tile. | |
| Figure in | |
| Ceramics.Where we reach out. | |
| Grab for Porcelain. | |
| But it's too fragile to hold. | |
| And it shatters in our hands. | |
| In time the seasons will seal these shards. | |
| Into the slits that denote your wrists. | |
| Death is the answer. | |
| To calculations composed of motions that are the same. | |
| And secret and different | |
| A missing alphabet with a message for us. | |
| When people die.(DIE,DIE!) | |
| They take a piece of us with them.(PEOPLE DIE AND DIE!) | |
| And holes in clouds are minutes passing.(DIE AND DIE!) | |
| Rescind this line and several ties.(PEOPLE DIE AND DIE EVERYDAY!) | |
| The skyline unfolds into explanation. | |
| That sometimes words give up. | |
| And silently walk off the edge of the page. | |
| And here the cry opens up reveals the word inside. | |
| The crack in the porcelain. | |
| The silent line of sky-lit eyes show. | |
| Death up there shine more brightly than lives down here. | |
| Try and live. |
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