Cyhyraeth Collected
On the night of the month I looked at the grass, growing over the largest hillside with shadows of shades of blue and white, against the starry night without forest for many miles, where in matted grass all forms of snakes asleep unwittingly in wait with the grasshoppers making their noises and the cats that quietly pad and prowl with tails and cowls of pampered manes.
The moon at war with the galaxies around it, absorbing the pale flickers of distant solar celestial hearts and traveling between the waves of constellations and the lines in my mind, slowly drifting along the ocean of sky, as wolves make waves in wild blades to mark their way in scowl and skipping to change the chain order for the border slowly circling an area for the middle.
A sky at many depths of spiraling madness where pictures of points dance around the world of night and the moon in my line of sight, for as soon as I had forgotten by wanton recompense with sight and sleep aside me, do these wolves lying despaired and disrepaired by mourning torpor have their loudest leader howl into the night.
I quickly staunchly veritably howled with them, and they bucked and chattered and soon gathered to see my tattered hooded robe and horns on my head and bloodless flesh and gave me stern pause in wait to see if they or I were bait, a choice to let each other escape, perhaps the graves were too full or the fires of rebirth tire of making ash, yet at the moment the stirring skies like ocean tide pulled at my blackened heart and rocked and rolled my eyes dizzying until I fell, and with the soil in my hand I knew not and with all certainty that death among us was mine to feel and screams I gave for daybreak.
Between prayers and war as I could pull to kneel a lone wolf watched and bowed and bolted into the day thru my tears, for this I pardoned the waning moon and the dying stars for their sins, and pressed myself to stand against my shepherd’s stave and craven mistakes for memories would laugh and cry in threnodies against the backdrop of footsteps and foreground of fallacy, for all the nature in the morning was a lie for summary and judgement.
IDIC
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