Serpent Instrument

Sculpt away at undercarriage for breathing room
So when the air rushes to fill the empty spaces –
Woven I will see for variations sake transition.  

I

Like glacial slabs, go the weeks wasted in worry. 
Like historic flooding, my tears loose themselves. 
Like fire on the horizon, I can not stop lingering.
Will this be anything but a temporary hollow?
Some new small cave to bore into?

And still, the hole shall be opened
so that it shall be all openings.
And the mountains shall be moved off
so that they shall remain a mere semblance.
Where the worm never dies,
the fire never quenches.

Stop and listen and –
bloody tears fall free.
I’m in Rain City –
I pray for the keys to 
unlock your gate.
Your container will be filled
from the source of all water.
In your Valley of Hinnom –
the limits of worldly desire.
I wish to dwell in the shadows of your Earth, 
called Volva by the inhabitants of Levania. 
Because Volva goes through the same phases as the actual Moon.
Let me think you too can be a light in the darkness.

II

I still look for you
– in those open woods
– in those places free from brush
– or alongside a body of water

Heart field with wounds.
Those soft and violent, misty fields.
From way down in that thicker grove,
you can hear the ringing of a bell
never stopping.

Are we animated and freed by each other’s living, heavenly fire?
As when the angels with their fiery rods run, 
and no man might mistake his son or daughter their desire. 
So will I walk after the lust of my soul 
and afterward, I hope, return to this good earth.

From now on my Gehenna,
sacrifice will have to be practiced outside the walls of the city.
Because they have made this an alien place 
and have built upon the high places where we went to burn. 
Some of the most devout still try 
to proffer themselves as burnt offerings to 
“always, therefore, behold, more days are coming”.
And I can’t yet really argue with that.