In The Ithmia

By: Entendu Posted on: November 20, 2008

In a mass of meditation where the undergrowth stills

We accept that we are the blackberry bush-

So quietly squat yet a bramble of the bittersweet,

An unfortunate course for the bunny to run,

Irrecoverable fur stuck to our limbs.

A slice of Daedalus alive in our roots.

In a raft of rest where the cedars canopy

We accept that we are the litter of leaves-

A soundless sight as guardians of the sky,

Careful to take notice of movement above.

Each of us a patch of cushion or crisp.

A slice of Oneiros reposing on the Ithmia floor.

In a slew of serenity where footprints vanish

We accept that we are the sun's shaft of light-

Laying ourselves across each walnut lost,

Configuring into shadowed patterns of shine.

Unaware of our destination yet sure of our descent.

A slice of Mithraea stationed between the copperwoods.