An olive oil pool

Beneath an amber moon

Ripples softly breaking

Upon my aural shores

A voice gently lapping

Lapping at my ear

Yet there is stillness

Even here

Foliage blackened by the night

Radiant in its darkness

Within a pulsing, pulsing

Cool and serious

It cannot bear the smell and fury

Nor should it even try

But underneath, a calling

That dares to answer why

Should the sun extend its hand

A finger would not bend

The earth surrounds, the dark abounds

It settles underfoot

Blue night release

The sacred thought

Or all our bonds

Will be for naught

Upon the sands

A golden hoof

That beats the time

Smooth and undulating

A caress of wind

Chattering stars

The distant call

Of wood guitars

Four was the number

The corners curled up

South was the migration

Where it is warm, where it is warm

A faceted chalice held the myrrh

That shattered when the moon returned

A poultice made of ice and blood

It healed, it cauterized, it burned

Windows opened

Fresh air breathed

Down into the depths

Receding

Different, now, all different

The anger went, the answer came

There it sat, blinking

And yet I could not find its name

Arms shoot out like lightning

Thunder pealing, pealing

All is silent, all is shut

The flight rolls over

Peeking from behind the olive rim

A new world, a new... anew

The end of all things

And yet it grew

We build this cave

We paint its walls

We spin and fly

We drive and fall

We turn the light

We greet the sky

We rage, we laugh

We win, we cry

And love pours out

A lava flow

A geyser, a cataract

Unending, unyielding

Where is the ring

Where is the call

What is it doing

When is it all

The shadows scamper away

The dawn at last has come

Behold, the mast appears

Approaching, encroaching

A wake heralds the flagship

The olive pool shimmers like glass

Within, a beam

The greenest grass

- S P Guy