Wednesday, December 28, 2011

For Poets Must Love

Heaven's most violent gust skates down an ice blue peak
Crashing into men or hardy tree
Or pulling sky's soft-white fall along like ice-diamond sabers,
Until the Heavenly burst reaches iced silence, a fin.

Whether in deep winter night's cold or summer solstice's dance
Where the joy of Dionysus lures domestic men and women
To the orgiastic wine-stained frenzy,
Even the tireless God must sleep.

Whether the West takes or the East gives,
Earthen days march steadily towards the Woman
Ready to wrap black cloaks across shoulders of the weary,
So they can rest, finally.

Yet before Her cloak touches skin,
Men and women seize chances for intimate revelation
To share, while wrapped, warm, in the arms of a lover
The grace which makes deep cold winter worth bearing,

For then we are Gods.

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