Inside the mystic cycle

Stand together with the ghosts
moon breaking its whisper
so casually spilt, its shadows casting
like the undergrowth of our needs
slippers steeling through the naked trees
holding its breath for the dawn
the owls last hoot
before the sun would glint upon its wing
like the snapshot dream
a flash ,across times rift
not for our convenience
the seasons will, the greater powers forge
soak it up like sphagnum moss
imbibe that tincture
distilled from folk lore
the fired ark of wisdom pushed out from the shore