sisters of intention

i have awoken

in the early hours of dawn

in the wet web

of widows black, and generations long

a twining

threaded softly

into the darkness of a time

unknown to the conscious mind

but in those first, unreal moments

as my body knits back into form

i can sense it

the silk hanging

thick with dew

passing into

& through

the layers of a gossamer

undulating

through endless rooms

the sisters of intention

—those great, humming bodies

that set this web

have long since gone

ascending

into the depths

of those other, softer dimensions

but i can feel them still

their bodies separating

and sighing

as they work slowly

to release the weaving

that spins this strange dreaming

into a space

suspended

outside of time

as they weep

the drink of desire

into the bodies

of their beloved

it is a knowing

that fades

into a song of shadow

alone

but for the glowering tones

of the rising mind

traceable only

for moments—

slipping off,

gone,

beyond recall—

under the draw

of daylight

yet those few strains

remain

ringing

on the outer edges

of waking memory

a residue

shifting

into the ends of being

as i wander

from time to time

under the sun

wondering

just where i am

and where i’m going

it is only when

there is no when, once more

that i begin to hear them

bristling

rising

soft on silent walls

and i descend, again

falling

into close recall

as my body opens

to the hymns

of a far deeper dreaming

calling

the cleaved backs

of the great fathers

heaving

as they contract

and relax

in the act

of inking the pillars

of this shifting symphony

into being

and i know, then

this vision

for what it is:

a gift from the Gods.

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Image: NadezhdaShu