I DREAM THE DISEASE OF INSISTENT TRUTH
We have already lost the world
We have already lost the world.
But we go to a world where it still is.
.
Filling the bright circle
With a cadence of whispered names.
.
It is not this.
It is not this,
Where we step through to brightness.
Going nowhere, we turn,
Become pillars of silence
Against the metred songs of a warrior god,
Sung in a warrior’s language you hardly even know,
Built for grey walls and bitter days.
.
A circle of leaves
In a sacred number
To build a door in air.
.
The knots are tied and untied
To measure the moon’s dance,
The stones moved round the circle.
.
The one who was lost
Is a clue to the thing
That can never be found by looking.
.
All our friends who are not with us are dead.
They are remembering other roads
Beyond the shadows of trees and the towering fountains.
.
We dance with mathematical precision,
A syncopated falling.
.
Small white flowers shall puddle
In her footsteps
Though the bones of the snow
Spell cold on the mountains.
.
We cannot tell if your bleak holiness
Shall heal yet, or simply dissolve our duties
To leave us standing mute and shelterless.
.
We fall into the roaring gorges,
The broken roaring overhung,
The dark, weeping trees.
.
It is a battle whose sides
We once understood.
.
Through a silent circle of leaves,
Holy in number,
We shall step and take new forms
That wait for us
Winged or furred or fluttering,
Whispered or yearning
We shall slide between
The rocks of certain truth.
.
Stones will shatter for our gentleness,
Worlds cave in and crystals crack,
The dark shall fill with pulsing light.
.
The impossible sky
The impossible sky
We will dance within.
—
simonhlilly 