The Crux of Night
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In the crucible of night
the mystery unfolds
X's and O's.
The double darkness
keeps our instinct alive
keep us from seeing
the truth of it we need to survive.
They come to feed
whether or not they are salient beings
we are never bought or sold
- simply free -
we are more than consumers
we produce what they need,
a spiral of ecstasy
(or the deadly obscene)
and every shade between -
choosing our demise
we are hunted in delight or terror
or both
They arrive without trail
when finished they leave
without disturbing a shadow
or teasing with vapid proof
only the wind rustles the truth:
the secret of their command
is dark and serene
We are not so great
or depraved as believed;
still they shore up
the gritty lives we lead
(crumbled heaps like a castaway's dream)
beading under a culling sun
grains of time are gla**ed into one;
and then they return to the edge of light
as we are found when born
in the crux of night.
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