MOONCHURCH

 

And

we six shadows walked

through the sepulchral splendour

of the night

 

bathed in the phosphorescent glow

of the moonchurch

 

ascending the ancient steps

on stones greasy with the fallen breath of a host of ancestors

condensed lives reduced to vapour

 

below

the whiteadder hisses and rustles in his gutters

wreathing silently in his pools

 

we reach the brocken altar

we stand in the crowded stillness

six in a congregation of thousands

warming our bodies with their sibilant presence

 

we offer our faces to the muffled moon

gleaming through its whispering cloak

the magus of the forgotten

fog of our memories

 

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