Light II

II.

We live in a land of vents
They pour forth
Vaporous and thick
Scented oracles
We see what we must
The smoke curls into shape
A dog, a cat, a parrot
They whisper their auguries
And we hear what we hear
We gaze into the candle
And in the dance of photons
The luxury of heat
Is just a sham
A darkness folds in
It creeps through the doors
And taps on the boards
The redeemer is dark
Memory, light;
They will fight, and this
Is nothing new
A season will turn
And from the smoke
A new prophecy of color
A hard, cold pearl of birth
Will race toward our
Bare feet, bright and blue.