Light again, and the one who brings light. Change the way you live.
From the ocean-vat, wine-fire in each cup. Two or three of the long-dead wake up. Two or three drunks become lion hunters.
Sunlight washes a dark face. The flower of what is true opens in the face. Meadow grass and garden ground grow damp again. A strong light like fingers massages our heads. No dividing these fingers from those.
Draw back the lockbolt. One level flows into another. Heat seeps into everything. The passionate pots boil. Clothing tears into the air. Poets fume shreds of steam, never so happy as out in the light.