Obsidian Caelum

The sea-glimmer of Raven’s feathers

 captures your gaze— waves

bending light keep churning

 across a pinnate cloak.

“I will help you, but if you falter,

 your eyes will become food.”

                  Odin gave an eye for knowledge

                                without a second thought…

A gamble, but irresistible. 

                 Faust figured so, too.

                      ❦❦❦

In absence of  mediation,

 we settle for a mediator.

Imminence— she’s shifty, 

 one needs a certain something

to contain her.

               A vessel of sorts. 

Ask a question first—

 Then, listen. 

The messages she sends

 digest your mind

into cross-wise thinking 

 of gale and tempest-storm;

into splintered

 polyphony of rot.

               Putrefacation is illumination. 

                         Why is that so difficult to grok?

Because Sun is warmth—

 we ache to merge,

forgetting our flesh burns.

                      ❦❦❦

Raven caught fire while stealing 

 a coffer of light—

similar to Psyche, 

 who snatched a box of beauty

from the mistress of the underworld—

 so we (clothed in darkness)

could catch fish and gather food.

            A roller who bet his dice

                       on the redemption of human-kindness

A little homage now and then wouldn't hurt...

           No?

Watch your eyes.