1. 

Through a rift of blue

in a cloud-bound sky,

I reached for you;

from a winter's grave,

your soft reply

made banners wave.

2. 

Independence-pride

in a fleece of wool

is anaesthetised;

pulsating tread

on a throttle full,

I lurch ahead.

3.

 I devour the sky

as the wattle fences

whistle by;

suicidal thrill

sends caution hence

from a drunken will.

4. 

The misty past

in a cosmic haze

can fade at last;

while the moment stands,

let the gipsy gaze