simonhlilly

“I was with Euron and Eurwys..”

In the resounding halls, in the forest deep,

By the shattering hearth, bright-eyed, exhilarated

I was with Euron and Eurwys, changing skins, making roads.

Casting seeds, nesting, fruiting,

Gathering blossoms for the feasting.

In the garden dripping with rain,

Cool-browed at the spine-tree,

Watchng stars dance and divide.

In the scented earth, neck deep,

Learning from worms the peaceful transformation.

At the end of the day and at the dawn.

Dumb, speechless as rivers, knowing all things.

At the grinding end of continents,

The whispering whimper of worlds.

At the evocation of gases, at the mudra of fire.

Weaving the plaid the poets know,

The language that ends suffering.

On the mountain top with clouds of mistrust,

With the prisons of the Law.

Moving through the doors of stone,

Frost-cracked, marked with cold tongues.

Moving through the doors of song,

Weightless as whales that dream of deeper things.

Cascading, fountaining in the fort revolving,

Perfectly formed, chased and limned

With ancestral universes.

With the primal poets, the prime progenitors,

Careless and frugal, weighing out worth,

The hierarchies of sound, tricksters of vision.

With the echoing bells, the endless carillons,

With the deep trumpets and the drums of bone.

Slow and pointed the needle words sew,

The rents repaired, the new gods fashioned.

There in the mountain storm, in the torrent,

In the slide of earth and the shattering of walls.

In the dark at midday, in the throne,

On the cross, forgiven and forgiving,

The sword of light in the shining hand.

There with Aristotle and Alexander,

With Ptolemy and Zeus,

Dappled Aphrodite, deadly Diana,

And the bear-wrapped wanderers.

The naked, jet-black girls.

With the figures of light

That flicker behind the veils.

With the dancing dragons,

The drunken souls of dreaming.

With the panoply of meaning.

With the caparisons of delight,

With the mysteries of silence.

Mute before catastrophe,

Gathering souls and names,

Sailing away west into night,

East into dawn birdsong.

The bow of the moon,

Giving us new birth.

—

It’s a while since I posted here – I find the working of this site increasingly tedious and opaque, when it was once so straightforward. That’s progress for you. I will be putting up more of last year’s words to sort of catch up on myself , at least partially. See there is an autocorrect butting in now, great!