In my nightmares, I am three:
A monster, a child, a god.
We each take the shape of belief
To breathe courage, favour, and form.
We command, we pray, we receive
In hunger, in stillness, in trust.
Not one knowing what’s real, who is speaking?
Any truth is the least of us.
Who is distant? Who listens? Who afeard?
Their shadows suggest dark effect.
When every response is a question
One must answer, though none else detects
An other’s voice
Yet another’s will
We are discord, struggle, and strife.
The latest consuming the next
As the last returns to life.
But it’s no resurrection that cures
Nor unity found in awaking;
The beast never slain
The child never grown
The god, still impassive, forsaking.
