Make amber glass of the past
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by Hive account@d-pend
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Make amber glass of the past
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A tatter — flayed meshwork of meaning
by discord assaulted: fine fabric rough-clawèd,
harsh-shredded by rage of unlucky collision
to hang from the ceiling of archaic tunnel
whose skin, now exposèd, is seen to be speckled
by age upon age of these alien markings:
tattoo'd old credos of hate and derision,
of love and the lofty, of petty and weighty
dilemmas of self and society's purpose
depicted by sunspotted, senescent surface
whose countenance ghastly, abhorrent repels me.

Retreat to the woodwork: back to that dust-spawn —
to the mote and the light and the nothing
before there were curtains — prior to cloudbath,
of the fancies and lies and distortions.

Make me see smoother, let me feel younger,
may I think wiser unphased by appearance;
may virtue direct and the pulsing heart follow
perhaps I'll be loom-man, maybe a weaver
of the new quilted love of next aeon
to clothe all the wound-loam, cover abrasions —
of a past reinflicted each saying
each beautiful lie told, repeated and lied bold
before universe, man and the ocean
the infinite ocean that flows behind surface:
that must fade while traverse I straight forward
to find the next stepping, with patter of logic,
firm step and a soft intuition —

I may flay that meshwork of meaning now further
until all its tatters light-sink in the sewers
and process of fossilization ensuing
can make amber glass of the past.