In the oysterpearl moon,
Where the Motherfather shakes, and swells
The night with shining sons,
Then, satisfied, reclines resplendent,
To watch them rise, beneath
The cloak of fireflies She blesses
Their first founderings with,
Cranes circle, owls whisper warning as
They fumble towards birth.
Soft stumbled steps, then - run:
In two, always, hence always apart;
She strikes the way, black-rent,
Away from lights, her trail shadow-path'd
Through thorns, through tearing teeth,
Towards tenebrous depths. Blind, into
The murk of choking earth
She toils; ceaselessly, she leads them both
In utter dark, to death.
And why not fly to death?
Dark is a way and light is a place:
I struggle, shadow-sheathed,
And always he shines, beaming solace.
We end our long voyage,
I dream, in a place of light: one heart
In the Swamp's bright embrace;
Fight no more through night, no more apart -
But dark is a long way.