And in the stars, in the silence of that silent world,
Sky-stretched above me as I stretch in sleep, Earth pillowed, The small, much dazzling gleam of eternity, the infinity That embraces the wide-eyed wonderer, The wanderer in the void of thought; There, yes there! There is the moment; there the dream.

I lie on earth. Soon earth will lie on me. Will I see through chalk, clay; through the finger’s dusting On the wood; Through the small whisper of parting; the salt drop?

Will I see the trip I need, I wonder, Find it among those rusting Fire-rustling echoes of eternity? Some so old. And some so new. New words. New worlds of stars, Where thoughts, like and unlike ours, perhaps begin to queue, And radiate, Hoping to be heard! Night sky, wrap me round Hold me in your fire, your future, the memory of fire. I do not need the sound of fury to be in your embrace, Only the transport to your echoing, soundless space.

Robert Holdstock

After life

July 20, 2018

here is no bright blinding light
nor warmth of rapturous gods
waiting at the end of tunnels
no uplifting, lilting voices of invisible choirs;
sans seraphim and angels most bewitching
mortal tears cannot capture
the beauty of their being.

There is no darkness or demons lurking
inside a cauldron of fiery spheres
nor sulphuric screams over carnal pleasures
too jarring for the drum
and no appeals for brief release
from biting anguish to a distant lord.

I tell you Brother,
here we are fathered for higher purpose
honed from nightmares of the living
reshaped to be monsters among men.

Sharla Anderson