Deep Defile

Deep Defile

In the deep defile of life
death is the only light
we see beyond the jagged heights
and twist and turns of trails

we follow, having no recourse
to leave the way we came,
or flee above the canyon frame
or shelter from the gales

that buffet us, and blind our way
while in our narrow sight;
exhausted we abandon flight
and let the light prevail.

It comes upon us like the sun
blood red upon the stone
in Petra when we hone
from the defile, and sail

into the dazzling death of life,
a mausoleum dream,
museum trap, a theme
the sun sets on our tale.

LRH
2.15.09

Afternoon Nap

A Sudden Dream

I fell asleep this afternoon
And dreamed of Chinese lords on horses,
Wearing robes and belts, as soon
They galloped by on arid courses.
One stopped and looked at me; his eye
Was large and slanted, knowing, sly.

I woke and wondered what the dream
Portended. I sit up and write
These lines to force a flowing stream
That babbles, sparkles, within sight,
Quite undiverted by the horse
And rider on his headlong course.

LRH
May 3rd, 2011, 6pm