There is a hallowed field

There is a hallowed field,

Filled with the crushings of stars--

The seeds of all creation

Kept for all to see.

There is no gate about the field,

No fence, no lock, no key, no bar, nor guard.

None, none, none, none, none.

Instead, the field extends everywhere.

All roads, all paths, all journeys

Lead to the field of stars.

It lies in the heart of every journeyman,

Of every trader, crafter, and adventurer.

For this is the place where dreams do grow.

Not all of them sweet, not all of them pleasant,

And yet each is born of a hapless heart.

Therefore, blame not the dream, but the dreamer.

A dream is oft a fragile thing,

Too sweetly made,

It ripens quickly, turns sour and then dies;

Made too stern,

It never grows ripe, but remains green and rings hollow.

Small and precious are the seeds;

They take no space, no water, no soil, nor time

Save love…

Love, love, love, love, love.

The field is a heart, the heart a dream,

The dream is a child, the child is me.

Be careful with the littles ones.

They only require love.

The Trunk

The trunk grows round the center
Ripples rippling round a wound
The core
Round and round and round again
Circles circling circles.
None thought of a seed till now
As a wound.
Creation as a violation...
The trunk is not at fault when the blight sets in.
It suffers as all suffer:
Through pain and pain and blinding pain
That settles in to roost,
Crying loudly in its nest
While the trunk cries loudly
Without escape.
And yet, it stands firm,
Holding up to wind and water
And sun and storm
And cloud and love
Until it falls
As all must fall.
But, the trunk is not the tree.

The Leaves

Leaves grow and flourish

High, high in the canopy

Dangling and dancing on the boughs

Turning their sunlit faces to the sky

Drinking the ocean of daylight

In, in, in…

When the sky darkens,

They do not hide,

They make their noise the louder.

When the sky threatens,

They do not quaver,

They turn their underside

Up, up, up

To the darkness,

Up to the pelting pain

Up to the storm.

They show their souls

And are rewarded with pain

With water

With life.

Life is tied with strife.
This the leaves know.

But, the leaf is not the tree.

The Ants

A tree is a city.

Ants crawl up highways

Carving paths

Through tree and bark and time and space.

Purposeful strides

Unseen by the tall,

Unloved by the small.

Industrious

Little

Ants

That live and grow

Wide and large in their multitude

Their graves outnumber the stars,

But the ant is not the tree.

Night Lands

Cracks across the sky,
Splintering into Night-Roads--
Deep-dark
Blood-dark.
Spreading puddles
Of Nightmare Pitch
Ensnaring the Moon
As all the Stars go out
Pissing on Heav'n wrought gears.
None are safe.
None are saved.
Saviors fled
And angels dead
Where He hath bled.
Hope is sundered with a smile--
The Jackal knows--
Slathering His chops with milky paste
Tasting stars on His pitiless palette
Mouthing them even as they go out--
One
By one.
Burning Seas cannot quench
The deserted farms
Lost to bruised Desert
Blight digs deep into crop and faun and flesh.
None are judged
& None are damned.
This is not the End, but an ending.
Night-songs lour upon the roofs of homes,
Straining beams and souls alike.
They huddle down lower
Under shadowed eaves
As Shadows draw nearer.
Shelter from the Storm--
There is none
There is none
There is none
There is no one.
A howling echoes through the land.
There are none to hear it.
The Night Lands acquire a new land.
If you listen closely, you can hear them--
The echoes of screams.
They are coming.

Echoes

Breaching births
Wailing whales,
Wailing walls,
Walling wails...
Frozen agonies
Solid structure
Giving grief
Through the years
Through the tears
Threw the tears
Hopeless keenings
For long lost memories
Of ancient histories
That mean something
That meant something
That meant some thing
That meant some, thing
That meant one thing
That meant....
That...
T...
Echoes echo inside the Echo
Echoes echoing
Ecce homo
Echo

Witch's Hut-Spices

Spices season the pot:

Cinnamon,

Rough and red and ruddy in hue

All the more full with you;

Oregano,

Leafy, choppy, ever green,

A biting scent, a cloying herb

Basil,

Parsley,

Garlic,

Bits and tinier bits

Fleck our leaf-lined bodies

Beneat the trees

Committing heresies

Shadows within shadows,

Unseen,

Unkempt,

Unwatched we lie,

But never lie.

Witches we in

Blooms of red

Blooms of nightshade,

Hebanon,

Wolfsbane,

Ambroasia,

Nectar sweetened for the asking.

Spices flavor

Our well-seasoned bodies

Beneath the trees

Committing heresies.