What of that morning that lied astray

In pitiless bottom of an outbreak quiver
Spilling its ashes on a transparent tray
Remorseless in the eyes of a believer

I stood still gazed atom edged and cut
In a drawing nigh all blurred clouded smudged
I stood still astounded with no sound but
A message bottled world that bore no grudge

Against the ruins closing of its own
Against an abyss of all the things known