Down from the Mountain
Mortal, mere mortal yet again…
Reminded by circumstance, heart pierced
by token lance, braided from tangled
ambiguous lines decreed verbatim
from whence the night —
exploring the trauma of secret things —
has broken hope, as fractured dreams
slither from the slimy deep;
prone primordial passions wake,
wriggling free from vineland’s sleep.
As he stood facing the naked sky
his passive gaze, pallid face, windblown hair,
gnarled hands and weathered brow
revealed nothing of his caved in heart.