Full moon.  Chill night. 

Clouds clatter across fathomless clear sky.

A blackbird calls from its sleep, a descant

To the rush of streams in snowmelt spate. 


Watery voices reach out:

Snatches of phrases

Twisted in the wind;

Truths beyond grasp.


Ancient pagan creatures dance

Through the slender torn limbs of winter trees:

Budded hands clutch at the stars in ecstasy.


I am intoxicated this night:

My eyes a crazy paving of divination. 


This tongue has tasted

Sublime nectar,

Darkest secrets.


Beyond the essence of knowledge,

Beyond the crawling,

The crying and the craving:

There is perfect certainty.


The gods are sleeping in heavenly beds,

Dreaming that all is well with the world.







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