The Sibyl at Dawn

The moon now is
Chiseled,
Shriveled to a
Shadow of an arc;
There it flickers,
Pierced through
These inked skies,
Looking upon
Sounds and streets,
Blotted out.
Gates are bolted,
Stars sharpened,
Lamentings seethe
Below.
Scribes sit alert,
Shadows succumb to
Substance,
Yet the sibyl still
Sings
At dawn.

The sibyl still
Sings
At dawn
While others roam across
Those violet skies:
“It’s far away, so far away,
We cannot reach it,”
They cry.
The stars, hoodwinked,
Stare at the sterling sword
Dangling in the sky.
It glows pale now.
Each new dawn will
Make it bloom
Till it becomes blunt,
And these eager ones
Will catch it no more.
Still the sibyl
Sings
At dawn.

Still the sibyl
Sings
At dawn
As sleepers awake.
The moon bloats
And staggers away,
“Why it’s so fat and full,
Like a blotch in the sky.”
The stars feel sympathy.
The moon, and others, float
Across their tides;
The pens scribble fast.
Dungeons bloodshot
Fume their cauldrons –
Soon it will be time
To unleash that red tide
And the sun will bleed.
And the sibyl still
Sings
At dawn.

At dawn
Sings
The sibyl still
While the moon peels off and
Prunes,
“Look, it’s a blade again,
Away, away, it might catch us,”
They cry.
The sibyl laughs.
The shadows sigh and stumble,
The dungeons roar and rumble:
Soon the sun will rise red,
All threads, black and white
Will unravel as shreds
For all to catch.
The sibyl unsheathes
Its wings,
Gyres in its cage
And stares.

“I am blind, I am blind –
What noise rises from below.
The beasts are loose.
I am blinded,
Only shadows and sleep lurk here.”

24 Sha‘ban 1430
16 August 2009