Bide, or, And you thought I was sleeping

​

It is a special thing, to fly,

It can’t be done lightly.

 

First you must purify yourself,

You must go deep within the earth

Before you take leave of it

 

I perform the ritual -

I bide.

 

Beautiful black earth -

You are my skin

I shape in your safe

Darkness, what cannot

Be touched

 

Still I taste the sun

In these neat white roots

The first alchemy

Gold out of air.

 

I will climb the air

When the time comes

 

I perform the ritual -

I bide.