Go without others
to the place where the Other
lies completely uncovered and whole-
that place where the named is un-named.
Do not bow to friendlier heads of the hydra
or gorge on flesh and wild honey.
Content to be slow, even still,
to be alone and silent,
consent to be weak,
to be ugly and forgotten.
Kiss tears, shiver of loneliness,
shun unwarranted glee.
Go, bearing no cargo,
without means to return.
— joel short
Night Falls (and my saint speaks) by Joel Short is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.