All paths lead to the Black Stage;
The one that hangs beneath the
Impossibly huge,
Lightning cracked
Longhorn bull skull.
But as the peaceful sun
Settles down to rest
In the hills beyond
The gathered tribes
I take a breath, a stance:
Feet below my shoulders.
From that point
Everybody knows;
This is my stage,
My tune, my song.
The notes as diamond-bit
Sharp as always.
“There once was a woman …”
Once ?
We look at each other
And the smiles are
Wider than ever …
Because this time around
We all understand
That the joke –
If joke it be –
Is on those of us:
The light and the dark,
Children of smoke and water
Who are here in this moment.
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