Control what happens

A hundred questions fell down on
him as he stood in the dark valley
shaking his hand at the clouds
the passages of which was being modulated
carefully by spaceships passing overhead
sometimes its summer
the truth on her lips
why she speaks when she does
she says things that are mute
and obscured dust in her eyes
falling sliding and finally collapsing

what it is that you breathe
is it the air the lust or the dust
in the room that you leave
open to view buyers and sellers
crowd the tables vying for the attention
of the other

but missing the trails the eyes burn
into the skin

not even feeling them
the lost winds
the tolls of the future dragging us

slaves to the strumming dawn