Days pass one after the other, and yet.
On a gentle day a starlit birth, my
winter walks the moon lights blue.
Impresses its image on virgin snow.
All the while, look, how white angel dust surrounds the moon, then,
stars,. . . like the mind shines bright,
against a midnight sky,
deep as indigo. Images,
not the dream in the usual sense.
O quiet days, to listen,
can you hear the dragon weeping? His
will and wisdom glow, a player of
the kingdom of the dead, intermingle, their
watery bodies, shades, and masked dancers.
We celebrate.
Please pass the peach nectar wine, on pheasant to dine.
The dandelion danced with a
white mandarava flower.
To a primal song sings the deep green valley.
I,
A seaborne planet set prelude to a dream.