Eleven Figures
By night eleven figures came to me
Unlocking doors that sealed shut long ago.
We travelled forward on a darkened sea
To sleepy Somnus’ cave, hidden below.
Eternal slumber gave me rich insight,
Transcribing knotted weavings made by Fates.
The desert day so soon becomes the night.
A pink adenium opens the gates.
The broadened wings of Letum drive whirlwinds
Destroying yet defining futile man.
This changeless contract Saturn can’t rescind.
This boundless desert wastes the best laid plans.
The vision fades away, the figures leave.
The Moon is made anew, no need to grieve.
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