The shoes fit like gloves onto
tender hands that
caress midnight fears away
from – Chaos and Matter, 1992
Perhaps it is best to start at the start, and sometimes it is better to use it as a mythology.
Hating the fragile web that held him fast, he fathomed options that ran like a space race
if he stood on glass and looked down there was no horizon
fast he swept away all grief and spoke upon the naked doorstep like butterflies sheltered from the wind
that would otherwise carry them on the path to Bethlehem
Bruised as they fell and nobody wanted to look for weeks
the diplomacy failed so they brought in the shrink
his quivering eyes unfolded with that soggy megalomania
as he paused and turned
Right there at that site of mystery he felt undiscovered
the first humans felt their way around the rock
and discovered they could get off it
walk in the snow
and ride the horses
the breath of beginnings is slow
the start of the greatest storms ever start
during the gliding fall of a feather