World of Ghosts

World of ghosts, who will remember us? I stood in the rivers of a luminous winter dusk. Your bright eyes! Like light pouring through the fissures of the skies! I encountered God in the cloud-borne thundershowers. I encountered God lying beneath the sieve of sunlight like signal fires of Ilion. Beacons rose in the Hollywood fog. In the shadow of the Creator moon I stood. In the shadow of coming storms I stood. Every pain is an ephemeral trace. What a wasteland of grace—we chased the divine in all the wrong ways. I witnessed fire in the ultramarine hills of twilight, flames scattering across grass blades in the dark palisades. I gazed at the stars in their black cathedrals, and I envied their distances. It’s the end of but one siege, and the stars white fires spell temporary victories. I witnessed wheeling fireflies and firefoxes in the fields chasing after warmth. Ferry me fireside from this cold world of ghosts. The gods remained invisible to us. I stood in the remains of a luminous winter dusk.