A Flick of The Grail
And God’s green birth, seeded,
Falls from the apple tree of the sun;
The yellowing edges of the Holy Book
Shades windows from the outside
As they brighten its pages from within.
The ink is drying the tears in your eyes.
This green seed Earth, buried
Beneath layers of sound, vibrates
In between its separateness from the sun
And the shadow of the moon. In the heart
Of this sound thicket,
The green seed is seen by the spacious
Sun through the window
Where, in the star-dusted haze,
A rising solar ship’s mercurial antenna
Takes time into the past.
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