Forgetting That I Have None

Approaching The Cup

Forgetting that I have none,

I aim an arrow towards a hidden sun

And loose imagination through the air

As the ravens rest, and no stallions run

Across the field towards our shadowy mare.

And I remember us, and say your name, and where?

And when? when will I receive that vital frame again

From across the way in the raging dawn,

Bright arrows emptied in a faithful chest. There.

The chariots dress in fire. The rooster wakes the hen.

Shut the seeing eye—sense the longbow drawn.

On you I train far more than earthly sight, or human care.

It’s this sheer longing that we’ll always share.

Look, my love, at who’s prancing on the lawn.