The scholar is five seconds
before his death and that grand wind
taking him where wake is past.
Which way does the gale
blow during a moonless night?
O compass, the spiritual problem.
Erasmus, let me see the top of your head,
As you crawl on all fours.
The storm is not easy this year. North Star: (far liar)
Erasmus, loyal dog, discovering
the perimeter is transforming.
Can you feel it on the skin,
the thrill of evolution
on the evening's edge.
Houseless mammals discovering form.
We watch what the mind can do to the body.
In the end we all turn into our fathers, all fours, touching dust.
Despite knowledge. At the gate of all endings, truth seeks revenge.
Only as an animal can the soul cross through the barriers.
Despite years of clergy, faith is best in stricken paws
and a tongue half-dead from the mouth.
The scholar, sitting alone in the pitch-black room.
Ear without sounds, eye without colors.
Be careful of the silver wind crossing through
the pillars of your seat. Only the sharp wind can cross
with you to the other side, and you cannot touch it.
The lights are filled with unknowing.