that life beyond the dead-end where

[lemorttoussaint]

"Relearning the Alphabet:  T" Denise Levertov

--yes, to continuance:  into

that life beyond the dead-end where

(in a desert time of

dry strange heat, of dust

that tinged mountain clouds with copper,

turn of the year impending unnoticed,

the cactus shadows brittle thornstars,

time of

desolation)                                                     I was lost.

The forest is holy.

the sacred paths are of stone.

A clearing.

The altars are shifting deposits of pineneedles,

hidden waters,

streets of choirwood,

not what the will thinks to construct for its testimonies.