“Where is the soul at death? Oh Thrice great Hermes”
Throw water into the ocean,
Row across to the other side and wait to fill the bucket;
with the same splash of water,
and cry to the soul therein, “Caught ya!”
“Where is time at death? Oh Thrice great Hermes”
It is as if you’d split the present moment,
this one instant and hold forever,
that it never changes or depreciates;
As a flickbook held open on one page,
A film reel never burnt by lamp but frozen,
A slideshow left unmoved and open
“Where is the soul ? Oh Thrice great Hermes”
Finding the Archetype in every person,
is to split each brick of coal and hold
a diamond there upon the palm.
Each sip of wine, ever, a vintage!
Each oyster with a flawless pearl,
A perfect pitch in every bell.
“Where is the voice of wisdom? Oh Thrice great Hermes”
To hear wisdom answer prayers
is to to hear one solitary instrument within an orchestra;
And, with a nod and a wink,
suggest the way the flute should play,
and have the rest follow its way.
A scale not heard before or again;
but loved at once and ne’er vain.
“What, say you now of life? Oh Thrice great Hermes”
With a heart that rests in truth
Where a Goddess sat beneath that starry roof
with a feather in her hand to
the blindness of life’s direction.
Where cannot equate the soul
The scales towards that folly showed.
Each question was the reason why
The spiral of life can never die.
Each urge to live and find the path
and leave it as our epitaph.
Image: Maat and Thoth as Albion~ Wenborn
The Western Gate 
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