sing heigh-ho

 There’s a science to it, though it’s never the science they seek. There’s a path even when there isn’t a plan. Hands together and the candles lit, the words pronounced, the geometry observed. Warily we wake in daylight to chase the moon with mad abandon. Heavily we hear our hearts drop then we sing unto the green holly. The misery we were made from, the hosannas on our heads. Skip to the frivolous rhythm, dance to the wind fraught sparks. Our lives lived in merry circles, our lives witnessed silhouettes from the depths of some secret world away. Leave the cave to find the way buried forever in the depths. Our projections just voices thrown, the ventriloquism of our expectations spilling down the road. Our direction another coin toss at the crossroads. Heads or tails all the destiny you need. 

I can’t make my way, can’t wash it down, can’t drink it in. I never get past the bylaws, I never make it by the over correction. Spot and cinders and the rain of ash. Calendars and letters and pages left blank. I limp and drag and take my consolations. I step and stagger and wait while the sky comes down. The fleeting and the folly, like the players are wont to sing. Most of it that way by design, the rest end up that way in time. The usual bindings and black coffee. The structure stretched around the lonely corners of the mind. I give it up the minute I get it. I swallow the ink and wait for the gravid moon.

There’s a magic in it, though it’s never the magic they miss. There’s a way there even when it’s a workaround. Hands empty and the daylight yet, the spell simmers, the winds rise. Trash for tumbleweeds, guitar for coronet. Lightly land the flies that test us. Wearily we rest our eyes from all this witness. The language travels amid the skins and voices, it writes on the bones, and draws in the dark. The lonely knowing of the stars and planets, the naming of the flocks and swarms. The days a dearth of diversions and a feast of woe, our words scattered to the dust. To know with bitter certainty the love that is missing. To know without a doubt that, yet again, the moon will rise.