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thoth1

I

No matter how I lay the cards
they say, you cannot stay.

Too much of you strains backwards,
no matter how I lay the cards.

We all reap just and infinite rewards,
but you in retrograde prefer to play.

No matter how I lay the cards
they say you cannot stay.

II

As millstones go, your words grind fine
to dust a certain kind of grain

too bittersweet for tastes like mine.
As millstones go, your words grind fine

the coarser thoughts unwilling to refine
within the convoluting husks of pain.

As millstones go, your words grind fine
to dust a certain kind of grain.

III

It’s time to wade beyond these reeds
and spongy ground to open sea

where fisher king, unwounded, feeds.
It’s time to wade beyond these reeds

and heed the author-god of creeds
whose beaded net pulls in new mastery.

It’s time to wade beyond these reeds
and spongy ground to open sea.

IV

Through flights of joy I catch a glimpse
of all that you’ve expanded and become

enough that I am ever more convinced
through flights of joy I catch a glimpse

upon the beach a set of prints
that lead to you, full standing in the sun

through flights of joy I catch a glimpse
of all that you’ve expanded and become.

~~~

© Elaine Stirling, 2013

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