epoch

a blueprint?
or a veil to your days
as
you are to mine--
do you listen to Radiohead wailing to the new moon
or do you sip tea amongst colleagues draped in sanity
pretending wholeness?
are you filled with whiskey or love
here in these dark times
pressing pressing
against the bark of trees to hear their prayer?
tell me ...
is there measure & merit
cheer & choirs of dormant bees
how far do you see without me?
are horizons wide and outlined in violet-blue?
are winds fierce and smelling of summer?
take the ink and trace the line of rivers to
the January moon and back again
pressing pressing
a blueprint or a veil?
perhaps
both ... as it once was it remains
arms open
to sky
and
stillness