Monday, August 4, 2014


"It is the evening of the day"
(words of a now-elderly philosopher)

Near the sunlit deck, towards sunset,
a butterfly  lands  on a leaf.

And I picture the Visitor
come set down beside me,
and give me a nod,
“It’s time.”

Smiling, I rise
and go with him.

[After dark, in the study, 
I was frightened  by a flying shadow,
which turned out to be a moth --
Michael versus Samael.]

[[ Foreshadowing  here. ]]

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