barefeet on the soft green carpet
of the dewy glen
I preferred to the hard clay tiles
under stone split with glass
the wind spinning the blades of grass
on afternoons that fed into
the eternity of night
when voices beckoned
from the darkness
and birch columns shone
in the full moon presence
I laid in the silvery threads
suspended in the canopy tangles
and peered into the heart of the beast
a sanctuary afforded to those
abandoned ways and to
those who were willing to pay
twas a morsel of truth
plucked out from the veil
a glimpse beyond the mortal hell
that both throne and cross
vehemently sought and bought
but could never hold
as it was never theirs nor ours
nor was the beating pulse
I left in the ground
that night so many many years ago
I returned it to its owner
so I could jump from
those silvery threads in the canopy tangles
into the heart of the beast
and swim in his ocean
where I had longed to drown
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