Perhaps

by Karem Barratt


Half moon,
Temples of mist, floating over tabletop lands
From where sweet cascades topple
Like diamond earrings in the lobes of a young bride,
A dream. The priestess of my soul cloaked in red,
Silent. Expectation hangs in the stars, silent,
In the dancing sands, silent, in the glowing eyes
Of owls and elves, silent,
In the breath trapped in my lungs, silent,
In the tear twinkling from the corner of my lashes,
Silent, silent, oh so silently, the wind, still, the I, stirring,
The bush about to burst in flames, Odin’s knife
A breath away from his iris, Kore about to step out into
The light, Hades watching, silently, the mirror, misted,
Waiting for my hand to rub clean the mystery,
For my heart to gather the courage to strip off
The coats of myself and see, truly see, what the
Whole universe has been waiting for since the last time it
Collapsed into a white dwarf, a black hole,
To unfold in a big bang, the unseen seen for the first time,
Once more, the silent truth we have known since our
Bacteria days, the look, the watch, the world behind our
Sight, the link, the light, the undescribable form, moulding,
Stretching, emanating, dancing with itself, within itself,
Projecting a without onto the silvery surface of its mind,
Hoping to be the flesh of its own dream, the me,
The all, the one, the unknown, the force, the I.
Perhaps.