the sad tale a last time told they sat on as though turned to stone.
Through the single window dawn shed no light. From the street no sound
of reawakening. Or was it that buried in who knows what thoughts they
paid no heed? To light of day. To sound of reawakening. What thoughts
who knows. Thoughts, no, not thoughts. Profounds of mind. Buried in who
knows what profounds of mind. Of mindlessness. Whither no light can
reach. No sound. So sat on as though turned to stone. The sad tale a
last time told.