Starkest Ice

Starkest ice

Oh- beneath the sky-
The Ambrosia of all days-
Now is run
Echolocate; the restless pull
Of the setting sun
The subtle tug of moon on tide

It is in, it is in
The cryptic channels of December;
That all hail and sleet confide,
In the burning of ice
All hail and sleet confide
In the burning off of thought.

Sun- what are you? A directionless
Yet compasless moth chasing
This burning dream of fire?

We're a shadow of pulsatile
Light– you who cast the moon
In phantom shades; a shadow of
Your scintillation, refracted from it
Are you just a shadow of the real
Light also?

Sun-
Answer me, for otherwise you
Must be but another innocent being
Speared by the one-pointedness of
Desire onto the wheel of the law,
You who were thought by the
Ancients to be the grand conductor
Of our system;

For we would the sun the
Shadow of
A scintillation- the moon is just–
The wraith of this disintegration:
Wan moon, starry aperture–
Why do you visit our earth still–
If you perhaps are in the days of:
Your last rapture?

Oh what will you imprint
Upon our vision- we who must
Die right after, and yet still
You will come, every night
Visiting just to be seen
Wielding the sickle through
The darkness

Why do still visit us- wielding this
Sickle through the darkness,
What will it do? What will it do?
What will it do to get our eyes
To capture– you last moments
Oh we who surely die right
After–

Us who are,
Blind witnesses; expunged
Not given even an hour to mark
The passage of light to the
Dark– eclipsed in stark
Reality

And strafing amidst this ice
There is the crepitations of all
Things collapsing; ice Palisades
Through which we are all wandering
Oh innocent dawn dream –
You will pulse in a final winnowing
And in me, the sifted wind will breathe