I go empty handed through the gate.
Allow me to make my last amends, bare and shivering
before the final descent to the unknowable lands.
None may enter except the empty handed and the naked
and the nameless.
All of it is gone; the shed skin of a western diamondback
on a desert floor and I go
barefoot and silent to meet what I shall meet.
And who knows what waits there, in the darkness where we begin
what adversary or friend
will come forward and call my name
and make me remember who I am, so that I may speak
and give my last accounts. Who will perform the rite
of listening in the dark, before the Word is sung again
and I rise, leaving nothing but a single seed planted.
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