At times the lazy ribbled toad
half opens up an eye,
and sees the world more clearly
than the mooncalf
perched on high.
Some nights old tales speak loudly,
in mortis toss and turn,
and the younger slumber soundly
through this danger of return.
‘Tis often a peculiar word
that rips sword out of stone
but the mouth remains an animal
as ash returns to bone.
We have often found a poet
in liars and in thieves
and also loved much gentler loves
than taught by birds and bees.
We’ve wandered lonely as a shroud
tossed behind the pearly gates,
for parts of us have lovingly died
and parts of us still lovingly wait.
Yet amongst the whispering of light
we settle down to starrily weep
for long are days when odder tales
Note: Image is a still from The Prophet, a movie based on the text of the same name by Kahlil Gibran.