In the middle of the world, in the centre
Of the polluted heart of man, a midden;
A stake stemmed in the rubbish
From jawless lips, Adam's skull
Gasped through the garbage:
'I lie in the discarded dross of history,
Ground down again to the red dust,
The obliterated image, Create me.'
From lips cracked with thirst, the voice
That sounded once over the billows of chaos
When the royal banners advanced
replied through the smother of dark:
'All is accomplished, all is made new, and look -
All things, once more, are good.'
Then, with a loud cry, exhaled His spirit.
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