In the darkness
I drape legs over the back of the bench
rest back upon the wooden planks.
Arms unleash
and dissolve to the ground, fingers spread
to caress velvet Grass.
The curl of the seat tilts chin to Stars
who moan beneath Shroud. I sing along.
Wind captivates waterfall hair and Earth
waits.

We are breathless.

The messenger lifts. He climbs to Stars, he dances
his river dance and
blows his pipe. He swells,
sweeps
two delicate fingers pinch Shroud at corners
and whisper come,
come closer.

Like a pilgrimage of childless
mothers Shroud groans after
Wind,
slinking east.

Stars don’t look so
hungry
now.

Earth waits.
We are breathless.

The sweep of the
messenger
complete, shadows
blossom;
blossom like Fire who thaws cold night.
Slim bands dribble from bench legs
painting Grass.
Grass grows stark
grows strong,
handsome in velvet
fingers whisper,
so handsome.

Wind returns
strokes waterfall hair
tilts chin
to muscular Stars and

I see Her.

Heart blooms.

She eases
from Underworld I
accompany; I,
the motherless child.
What waned within
waxes
with Her.

Earth is bathed.

Fingers abandon Blades and
reach for Moon.

She shepherds Light
illuminates the Shroud
I wonder
how I could breathe
with so much
Shroud.

She mirrors how
to slink from the death
embrace of the many;
many, but
scattered
many. In each his own
solicitation;
disunity dilutes
and they cannot hope for
strength resolute enough
to be opaque.

She shows me
temperamental
beauty;
how to come together
how to
fall apart. It’s not warmth
I feel
but dilation.

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