August 21, 2014


Loosely jacketed against the frost bite

In the air, tight on the skin and in the strands

Of hair follicles. Beneath the swarming stars

On the dais of the earth, circling in the dark,

No light falling on them but only around them,

On a high prairie, chalk stone on the horizon,

They heard horses, jaunty, in the distance,

Though coming to that place finding no trace

That a herd ever had crossed it. And thinking the

Light from those stars may have carried them up

And borne them from the dark earth,

The electricity of night about them and

Walking through a myriad of different

Celestial pathways

They came at once to an ancient orchard

Where the fruit was of their own making.

Though it was cold, they stole like thieves

Loosed from a chain-gang and stumbling

Upon a treasure trove of different worlds

Ten thousand universes and futures ahead of them

And infinite possibility abounding like the swarming stars

There and always there for their choosing

Though until this night always just out of reach.

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