The object and its images
the object and its flat derivatives
the object and its representations of the object.
Resilient thorns of undergrowth
grow around the perimeter
of the path most traveled.
Were it not the only path,
the voice calling out in desperate dark
would not be alone.
But there is only one voice
calling attention to itself.
One Fire casting many shadows.
The gentle movement of the forest
are the thorns that beckon,
their cohesion is coercion.
They intersect the dirt path,
an Echo of green leaves,
producing poisonous fruit.
The path has revealed itself to me!
Or to part the relentless thicket
to form my path in blindness.
The road, as it curves serpentine,
begs evil broodings, barbarous dreams,
of lawlessness on a mount obscured with vines.
I behold the path ahead!
I do not dictate it!
Nature is not a question!
The night sky, once anointed
with nurturing stars,
is overtaken by darkness.
It will rain!
It will rain!
It will rain!
