I would be ready

I would be ready, should it come tonight.

I wait upon all ends, as do we each,

have swept my mind of all moveable fears,

and tried to pierce a veil of fair unknowns.

I am impatient with the magic now,

have slipped the tether of old ritual

and left to other arms the shield of faith,

to feel at last the depth in every night

and sense the murmur that a new felt wind

inflects upon old spirits who will hear.

I watch while every dusk enfolds the world

within an unknown realm, myself half-seen

and half-seeing, now here, now there, now gone,

alike some shallow isle whose trace appears

but briefly in the movement of great tides.

My visions cannot capture all I see,

nor words translate the things I come to know.

And while old mysteries will not abate,

I wait upon no supernality.

For only I attend upon these times,

alone to every instant, as must be;

and every hard-felt limit that is found

records at least an impulse to break free,

to try this darkness, sometimes kindle light,

’til rest shall fall, like mist upon the night.


A new poem for Imaginary Gardens
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