#hard c

Descendent of fire

Fire’s kin

Which way does the blade cut

Which way does the arrow go

I picked up a fallen arrow

No idea who shot it

Who it pierced

Who shook it loose from the wound it made

Whose blood dried on it

And how it came to lie just there

Where I was walking

Trying to find the limits of you

I picked up the fallen arrow

And tried to write it in the dirt

To find out what it says

Every stick has a word inside it

Every point aims a meaning

I picked up a fallen arrow

And tried to understand the meaning is there

Beyond the place I mean to go

Meaning is keener as my mind littleth

And it is later than now

On the day old snow

Frozen thawed, frozen again , a slick skin

The silk of weather falls

And it is 22 o clock

We need a torch

A keen light

A fire on the stick

A torch to find our stupid way

Away from the womb

To the work of the temple

Our work in the temple

Always talking, always burning

Always telling our way into trouble

And the cross is always waiting

Sometimes a burning cross on this white landscape

Sometimes just rough carpentry

Cobbled together on a hill

To kill a man

But we still see by such light

The wit to know sorrow

Only by knowing sorrow

Will you know what is on the other side of the wood

Every footstep hurts you

Furthers you

Follow the blade, follow the pain

To cut

Down trees

Blade bite courage

To be keen

To take your heart in your hand