i sing a journey

scarlet dancers
each one visits my heart, bringing roses.


i sing a journey and it is an open gate.  between za and re, between

cláirseach and lute, between bare soles and well-buttered brogues more gates

stand open.  scarlet are the dancers’ veils.  they wrap me in a shawl

of singing, dance my blood through my veins.  each one visits my heart


bringing roses. white-petalled stars are: roses thorned with splendour.

they nestle like chickens in straw.  sharp are their twitterings of light,

exploding golden among dark, cold pebbles that no-one can see, because

they are ourselves, oh, truly they are our millions of magical selves.


each star, the bride of time, is as long and thin and winding

as time itself.  who has braided these?  taliesin’s hands on a lyre loom?

i follow a braided rainbow way through attitudinising zodiacs

on the braiding hands of gods, and get at last my place among the stars.

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