Spiritual

in the night of day 
a dark-house becomes each tree 
swaying clock-wise round sun 
turning reprieve like a home 
into a lighthouse inverted 
storms of calm are as chains 
melancholic melodies of masting 
fasting your ear 
of what you know 
and who you are 
yes no 
within the conical hot as well 
find the night of day 
a tranquil moment for just thought 
naturally fleeting like sparrow 
much like memories these things are 
of the finest fictions to tell 
to know 
translate my affection 
into this treehouse lit with marrow 
with nest of mind unfolding unbecoming 
from the comb hexagonally narrow 
packed with the finest honey fit for the soul 
shimmer in the final usher-eyes 
glancing back from the stage-door

tree light