There are some truths which can only be glimpsed by firelight.
Shadows hold the secret of the void.
Scalpels of light reveal nothing of the darkness;
She must be embraced to be understood.
Through the smoke, and embers, and the sting of burning green ash
I see him.
Goat. God. Man.
His odour is my fear; midwife to my prayers:
“Oh Prophet of the pastures. Prince of Arcadia. Lord of the lingam.
Hairy, hoary, horny, piper at the gate.
Deliver us from these crowded places, and return to us your sweet ahuman dreams.”