Sorry for the long time between posts, life has been crazy…


We cannot help but make faces-
Those we hear of, before we know
Them (as much as we can) are
Built in our minds, masks that persist,
Regardless of reality, unless we work
To bring them closer to correspondence.
How much like this, the gods-
Pre-existent, vast and potent, weighted
With mystery and purpose- we do not
Make their faces, but still their most
Basic shrines are built within us,
Their too-great reality lensed down
By and into our minds, our souls.
What we see, feel, hear, touch of Them
(If we are so blessed, so burdened) is but
The flatlander’s view of the third dimension-
Countless tangents pointing to a moving target
No guaranteed to be any fixed point, line,
Crystalline shape, but moving, fractal, faceted,
Ungeussable beings that bless us with this
Interaction, resonating along the ghost-gray,
Blue-flash, and candle-flame that links
The Mysterious whole, holding all in tension
While keeping discrete the Ones who walk
In groups or singly or in pairs, down
The winding of the ways, from first cry
To last gasp – and back again.