When the black vastness overtakes us,
we stand in the tracks of shepherds
whose words on such nights
connected cold lights to form
the winged horse and flame-born bird
and the twins that led them forward.
But to speak the astral truths,
to see our names consumed
in unquenchable heat,
to fuse with unsayable source
shooting across the skies,
straight through the holes in our eyes.
Reblogged this on Eileen Kennedy Author.
Great blog you have heere
THANKS AMY. WHAT’S YOUR BLOG. I’D LIKE TO CHECK IT OUT.