THE TERNARY

In a lone valley, beneath a lone star
in a space out of time I crouch
Wrapped in a twisted furl of the tapestry
sifting the worlds upon worlds
of silt and rock and decay I that cannot see
and I wade through the grey of an ancient moraine

In a lone valley there is a lone god
Beneath a lone star, his guide
Lone god is one-eyed, Trifid, west and north of Sagittarius
And his guide in colors of the cold, strength of the past
One, as bleach-white as old whale bones
One, red as the glowing dawn

I stare, I stop, I pause enough to kill me
The oscillation of an unknown draws me towards him
My windblown skin prickles with the weight of it
Soundless I speak: six-one-five-four
Trifid does not see me, under him I am only
the filament of the universe, less than a heartbeat

The weight of it goes noticed only by
the winter guide of warmth and death and skill
Pinned I am, by bleach-white in colors of the cold
I am gruesomely seen
In a second or a lifetime I breathe enough to save me
Under a lone star he screeches out in sub-zero:
DO YOUR WORST

And yet I cower, yet I turn, yet I risk
And run
And I do my best, despite
And he screeches out:
Blue as the old moons falling overhead
Red as all the dawns have ever been

And all else becomes forfeit
Under that symphony of yours
Under that ragged coat of albedo
Bleeding out a single ray of starlight
Red as the glowing dawn

I refuse to be tethered by a sickness
trapped and worming its way under fur
I refuse to bleed, I refuse to sing
I refuse to add my voice to the wavering
of strings, of contrabass, of a
dead and dying animal

At once you are a black bird above me
At once a shivering body in the snow
Point straight, striking the north star
Follow the trail dark in the southern skies
from your home to mine, wherever she lies
Along the reaching arm, Scutum-Centaurus
lead me to my very future.

Lead me out to you.