The Harried Mystic

the pale full moon coats this December night in wet-silver,

and cool air strikes a note on ancient stones.

a bass clef rumbles, a deep cry beneath the world,

as the stars burn, and matter moves in time.

and I see crystal arbor lockets on tomorrow’s branches,

waiting in the dark-still to announce the Face of Mystery.

© Brother Anton and The Harried Mystic, 2009. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited.