“I could turn a blind eye,
watch the sundial wither by the moon
and waves of glass
pound against the sand
like massive fists
white, too weak to strike through.”
***
The Soul is a subtle dancer
Who stands, tiptoe, still in the light—
still, still so the dust swirls,
surrounds Her in a time lapse,
and the light streaming in like fire
pauses to gaze upon Her form:
body fixed in worship,
a World withheld…
There’s this grey-bearded man of the woods
with jade eyes, a rag of fleece,
a dial to turn it all back.
He plucks a song for Her,
killing the twilight just to see
those visions he once had
that She was real.
04/14/2016
St Andrews