the full moon's shroud

hands collect in the heart of empty
space, daylight's edge, the brink
of night weaves dreams into spells,
casting lots across the heavens
from stardust as comets' tails
blaze stargazers' finger-snapped
trails; shivering up a cozmic spine,
burning desire's naked flesh
caresses the cheek of morning,
discarding the waded up wrapper
of yesterday with the dead leaves
lying under the thorny, yellow
acacia bush lining the arcing path
of time, marking this instant separate -
different sign posts etching memory
out from momentary lapses of reason.

clandestine contemplation carpets
dungeon corridors with a gray horizon
haze, under the full moon's shroud;
a dragon roars into the icy teeth
of a nor'easter's hoar frost, blowing
across the face of ancient yearnings:
in the arms of one great mother
all her children hear the same song
lilting at bosom's core, one soul
blossoms into a great, primordial
galaxy where all lines of distinction
blur and vibrations radiate
into infinite, directionless reaches
to find the serenely sublime
peace of absolute, integral devotion.