textures of cerebria

rare light slants in the ancient doorways –
bright motes hang in the air –
patinations on cobbles
capture our hearts

we hear voices
discoursing in rare harmonics,
feel celestial rays
touching the grains of our bodies –

you offer us textures,
showerings –
gifts from the sun, moon and comets –

calling cards we trust –

marks and colourations
on the walls of our homes,
texts inscribed in vaults,
pictures of the beasts of our souls –

trust, too, in your unseen footfalls
deep in valleys and paths,
in your fugitive three-void mothering,
dark-subtle fathering of our realm