IV

What this is cannot be so easily defined
A Homeric term- a symbol of past yearning.
Hear the sounds of night and know
These are the sounds of night throughout, not
especially one night, not intentionally sighted at you

But dew creeps into my vision like serpentine vines
and the condolences offered by memory are fleeting.
Where is the harlequin comfort of home and the
evanescent beauty of my seraphim childhood?

Refuge is not assembled by saccharine dreams.
It is not that He is not here but rather that my
arms are hesitant to embrace that which is everything
For fear drives me now, from the sacral sphere
to the thundering pummel of heart beats.