ungently gone
into some ungood night
(though their images ne'er strayed
far from our sight)
a trinity of wholly energy
(having become ungossamer guides
leading
legions with unlikely luminosity)
possessed of
(or predominated by)
the spirit
(and soul)
of a generation
each,
twisted into a tentacle
of some greater pagan thing
(only
our own fantasies and fears)
dimly perceived
with whimsied welcome
(by some)
fair fast taken
with luscious
lust
(by some others)
and held so tightly
in our unsecret greed,
that they withdrew
becoming finally
riffs and words
which we worship
in arcane remembrance
of
what they did to us
(or us to them)
traced tears on the wind
stolen pieces to tend
all, gone in the end
