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Unquiet Dawn
Something enormous
reaches through
the glitter
and crackle of
night's sky:
A shadow.
A light.
An entire realm
descending
and all it wants
is your soul.
It holds you like
a lover just
before the
first light and
a lost sky
are ripped by oaks,
poplars, ash trees
and pines
and it pierces
every part of you
with an almost
deranged
and perfectly
sacred beauty.
So what had you so
frightened,
so imprisoned?
That world out there?
Oh, it looks solid
enough and
it moves with
glacial sloth
as we drag it
through our myths,
our dreams.
Look: nothing
to see here if we
look long enough.
Crows like
disheveled priests
that don't know
what vows are
live outside
the absurd
religion.
The onyx-eyed doe
and other
woodland nymphs
aren't playing the
game while
spun-glass mist
and sticky-sweet
drizzles of
morning have
their own story
and it has
nothing to do
with ambition
but everything
to do
with everything
everywhere:
One flame,
One All
and our personal
universe within.
Patricia Joan Jones
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