So where are all the mad albanians Who strike their sticks by blinding right! The angels of an infinite dreaming, Who soar in elegant rhythms of soul, 5 Above crystal peaks, in unbound revelation? The solitary voice, like a shaft of flame Dances like silver stickpins of rhyme Among the eternal fires of inviolable extant, The triumphant victims of terrifying step 10 Who rise to the highest in dawns new trick And kick away chipping casts of despair. O mad Albanians, their souls are tortured, Sounding cries of no more words... Daniel B. Dermond
From the collection "Ghosts and Princes"
Written by Gregg Glory [Gregg G. Brown]
More information available on gregglory.com.