reviled
a moon split its bright face leaps between the clouds of night
a shift
along whose white arguments accolade is not ringing
harpies sing weird songs enticing inner dialogue
and winning anger as if one hears the heartbeat thudding
and the breath pursuing hounds
fear and
such questions threw us
into wondering
and brought dishonour to those of intellect
whose pages chanced upon the logic boughs of
wooded thought
whose dim trunks amassed obscure
withheld the stark reality
the open space of simple truth
if light you climb in lively cliffs
until you stand upon its headland
way above the clouds
and should be passed there by that child of infinity
rushing on its madding way
and shout to it as it gallops on
its echo you may hear
it tells of future man
flailed in life and lightly thieving
like a harried beast that nips and dives
at particles that fell from others bread
sent with
its bully chesting up
its irrational discourse
its forgone rays
its language doled out by cliche
its obvious gaits and traits
its whittled tragedy
that hurries off like a fat old man
wheezing in its loping sweating lope
to slow to catch a moth let alone the light of light itself
but this is not our fable
this is one where darker gods of fate
meet with spirits
whose lips equipped for nights
no form upon which image stands
betwixt the odd or even that
assembles life and death like hooded riders
and dispels of sanity a wisdom bleak and dogged
dimensions disarray
stilled with swift down lifted branches
have through dreaming
its long obscuring answer held apart
each man is emanated from its juncture
for arguments forged spears
and heavens ranted on
dark to infinity
as if the storms of the world had joined to one
its mighty cyclone rents the shores
and tears the verity of cliffs to sand
for this in violent sway of concept
over the edge
the path will lead you
plays of ragged clothing flying out behind like tattered wings
remember how once we fell in dreams and dreaming
diving to our doom like swatted flies
small and broken is so little wise
the white path and security
they're lost
thin and inappropriate
this is how i feel
threaded through the many aeons
threatened jostling
to face
toward that bush whose twined roots creep
round history ashamed
upon its cold grave lies my name engraved
upon whose horizontal axis
revealed not by place but regaled in immortal song
with the genius of devilment
i stand reviled maybe
beguiled by far horizons