Psalm of an Ancient Friend
my ancient friend,
You swaddle me in cloths of indigo and spruce,
brush away my bangs with your foamy hands,
and recruit your comrades
the wolf and the owl
to serenade me to sleep.
Two pairs of eyes
steel grey and fierce arctic blue
gaze upon my helpless state
lacking sympathy and carnal instinct
just neutral curiosity
as you, Dusk,
place your plush lips
upon my furrowed brow.
The shriveled umbras peer through the window
frigid as the plated, icy glass
their palms stretch across the pane
merging into cobalt icicle spiders.
Vanilla moonlight splotches your worn face
your gorgeous frozen cascade of long hair
a stunning, petrified rapids.
a frightening, affectionate Aegean guardian
decked in pale cornflower robes
sewn with withered oak branches
composed of the dead, the expired elements
of our Beloved Earth
stunning in your complexion
limbs and torso chiseled in raw diamond
Though your caress freezes my blood
shreds my breath into crystallized vapor,
you are The Tender Watchman.
“Gently rest, my child.
The pure are the true sovereigns.
Oh, how their dreams nourish this fractured sphere!
Their reign is vital,
their vocation a catalyst
for this world’s preservation.
Do not allow yourself to be spirited away
by the impudence of greedy, prideful leaders.
Their hunger is insatiable,
their thirst cannot be quenched
they will perish by their own accord.
But you, my child,
fasten onto your heart
of this Earth.
Those cowardly leaders
have robbed you,
and you must fight
to reclaim it.
Do not be dismayed
Your work has only begun.”