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Beneath the weariness there is a deeper weariness

which stems from the breath of time

becoming short and timorous

There you are with 400 years of collected ghosts

trying to forget their tortured loneliness

for the virtual reality of dust houses such men

Their officious longing for miracles bound them to

specks and cobweb in lofts and in wardrobes

wailing and sobbing

But their dried up skulls

holds no tears to redeem their love

and bring them home to an eternal dance in ¾

You sit on your chair

and watch your rattling state collapse

in the yellow glass of the clock

while one Berlingo after the other

hurry by

.

I like this poetry,especially "Their officious longing for miracles bound them tospecks and cobweb in lofts and in wardrobeswailing and sobbingBut their dried up skulls holds no tears to redeem their loveand bring them home to an eternal dance in ¾ You sit on your chair".It sounds very fluently.