Water

Now shivering, standing in the waters,
Bathed in the green light of the moon.
Underneath a cracked sky, a yawning mouth.
The desolate swine.

Now floating, blue, down the icy river.
Pale hands upon my body.
The moon turns its back to me.
Black. Shaking. Cancerous.

I take up the sword. I am the sword.

My blood is the alpine stream, clear and cold and fast.
I am filled with tremulous light as i strike the head from the swine.

Its blood is plague cloud. It fills my mouth and I stagger back,
Rushing water pushing at my knees, tugging at my feet.

The blood fills the cosmos, infects the stars.
They wither and die. Glowing red embers.
Helium ash. White dwarfs.
Neutrons. Black Holes.

Now locked in a river of ice, the sun looks like a firefly:
A speck of wavering light in eternal blackness.