ORACULAR MESSAGE
In the woods, in the green wet woods
The dead are waiting with their songs.
.
They have longed for their flesh and they have forgotten.
The rivers are full of their passions.
It is a cold steel desire, a lust like winter.
.
It is gone now, subsided into multiplicity,
The tracks lost, the flash of prey in the bushes,
All become unintelligible like a valley dissolves in driving rain.
.
But the dead are waiting there with their slim fingers
To crack open your sight, to break open your eyes
The release the hawk of your mind, the hungry raven of your heart,
The river of your reason.
.
This is for you, a prophecy for you
Because you have read these lines,
Because of the intersections of the stars,
Because you are nothing but this,
About to be forgotten, about to be lost.
.
The dead are waiting in the woods, singing and dancing,
Forgetting everything.
.
You have dreamed enough.
You have destroyed enough.
.
They slide between species, have no regard for distinctions.
They breathe the matter ejected from shuddering galaxies into the void.
.
These words are not for you
But you must remember them and pass them on.
They are for the last one who leaves.
Who turns to flick the light switch
And with a small smile steps into darkness.
.
Tell them the dead are waiting in the green mossy woods.
Tell them to listen for the sighing song
For the surprise of pine scent drift singing storm winds.
Tell them to remember the small things,
The notions that eat worlds.
Tell them the dead are waiting
To take them home.
.
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