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Like water on a dusty ceiling,
cathedrals flee candlelight’s memory
and walk to places that can’t be known
like Babylon, Eden, or any of the above.
Today, not yesterday, the incense is burned
and spirals dance on strings and dreams –
stairwells and mazes light the way, reminiscent
of gothic stones, tales of hiding.
Or of release?

Sometimes this place means nothing
but a chance to sell forgotten love,
yes,
her love was a gothic image
on the ceiling, dancing shadows in my heart.
a sword, a castle, cathedrals,
and dying kings on rustic thrones.

The gothic wall is in ruins now, lumps and squares
and mysterious lines, rocky patience, waiting to be found
and shaped, for you, into an altar of birth
of wild diamonds and futile wishes.
I feel the terror
Of a goddess in birth,
casting forth fire to soothe my pain,
like lizards through stone walls, surrender
invites me to the gathering,
invites me through the gate.
The Apple Branch is packed and waiting to taste
what it has never seen, not even in dreams. What will you bring
to the ceremony? Are you coming?

Today was the day the incense was burned
and I invited the leaves to dance
on a far away tune,
a chant of love –
carried across the sea into the waiting hunt.
    
More than a year now, since her water mingled
with the spirits out back, but Now is not a time for doing,
Now is a time to listen –
The poetess recites her verse
through the valley and village beyond,
inviting leaves to dance in light and shadow of soul,
in the music of our mingling –
the poem everthere – where I belong.

Like water on a dusty ceiling,
I flee candlelight’s memory
and walk to places that can’t be known.
Gentle now, the summer bows to me and I release
the moorings of my wishes and become the smoke,
released to the Gods in my soul  – may I always
remember this day, always become the chant ,
may the leaves always dance
in the silence of this great hunt.

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