The soul of Demonax of Cyprus, immortal
In the way that everything is, protested
To a for-profit prophet, If we can change
The future by knowing it, what was it
You saw and sold? Destiny it wasn't.
And if it were, true fate, why pay to know it?
No storms were in the forecast. Storms
Were in the past. Clouds played hand
Shadow puppets with the distant cliffs.
Here's a bunny. Here's a hawk. Look,
It's a giant coyote lolling in the canyon.
What did these shadows and lights foretell?
That yesterday some things happened
That will not happen today. What things?
Whirlwinds. Smoking carpets of curled lava
Hundreds of days wide. Lightning bolts
Fencing the dialogues of the dead.
You know. The usual yesterdays. Destiny.
Leviathan, the unknowable child of time.
I sat by the river as usual and read. Stones
Occasionally cracked loose overhead,
Reminding me of another black thought
I'd forgot. Immortal as everything, the wind.
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