I stand within the circle,
Stones around me,--
the deeds of my fathers offered to the whirling lightning
& heavy rasping sand--
& I cannot see the stars.
Can darkness exist without the light,
alone & no rival,
no equal & opposite action
against which to react?
I cannot see the tiny bright dæmons working
at the limited edge of my limited perception,
lurking in the murky sand-filled reliefs
& etchings on the bases of the Stones.
Their grindings are lost in the wind-whistle.
Can a man exist outside the beast?
Can a man rise higher?
Can a man exist
without Stones
to bleed him dry
or feed his thirst?
I lean against the wind, & the heavy sand
drops out of speed-induced solution
& onto the rough-hewn deck behind me. My skin
is scoured away,
& my flesh cries out:
"Darkness within the light,
beast inside the man,
what is your price?
What is the price you paid?"
Tiny bright dæmons work at the Stones
with their teeth & horns, blasted
by the eternal sands: one careens off
into the desert night & across
the periphery.
Sand blasts me, & I collapse, ftal. The body, still, remains.
I have crossed the periphery, & the body remains.
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