Images in the Time of Shadows
A dove sits in the tree of life
in the genesis of mist –
a tracery for the vale of tears –
this for that and that for this.
That for this – a scene of shades –
a fallen feather touches ground—
the participance of passing things
forecasting seven trumpet sounds.
As sad-eyed teachers hurry beauty
from its nest of lace
they magnify the paradox
of mortal time and space.
That for this – a tag of words –
and images that hit and miss.
Who made the great Leviathan?
Tongues of fire – answer this!
Slipping glimpses – that for this
– for paradise, a mustard seed.
Lo, what I see through glass and tears
is this for that and that for Thee.
Lend us for now a jar of myrrh.
Perfume our smoky prophecies.
And as we wander through the mist
burn through our cold philosophies.