Something
to say not wanting to be heard
And
the oyster closes over the pearl.
Ribbed
cushions fit where hardened tight
The
shell over the cloistered bitter pill.
Cradle-hid
the living of the back-to-front
The
largest place within the smallest thing
The
brave seeing place where none could see:
The
land inside the dark that knew the light.
Dreadful
the pitted place of the ascending
Eagles
gathered where the dead body was
Picked
it clean, left it stripped of all flesh
Till
only spirit left, shrouded in its starry veil.
On
a single emerald engraved its moonlit tale:
The
pivot upon which the universe was hinged;
The
thing was safe with them that held the key
That
knew the noon-light sequestered in the night.
Through
their fields the reaper had had his way:
The
double fox, with tails, tied, and set alight
Sent
to burn up the selfish fodder of the soul.
Something
to say not wanting to be heard
And
the oyster closes over the pearl.
*
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