It soars up

to the very foot of the

Awful and Glorious Throne

and turns away from

the sunbright Presence

to fly to Andromeda and inspect

the nether regions of its

innermost spiral, dancing

through fields of shattered

potsherds that were once

iron-bottomed worlds.

It descends into the maelstrom

of bare-nerved bloodlust,

cringing at the sight of

trembling innocents 

crushed under the

banal weight of grinning

barbarism.

Shivering with dread, it

curls up in airy dreamlands

of mercy, cradling itself

in the arms of warm-breathed

mammals, until it jumps

into the breathless

depths of desire and

lovefierce touch,

careening along the way

to a (distant?) scene

of watching the garden one last

moment, eyes brimming

with the end of a thousand

unwritten stories.