“The veil before their eyes is so full and casts so dark a shade,
they can see the Dark Sun even at noontime. Thus, they meet
the Master and their fates in whose colors they cast themselves.”
I Ching, Hexagram Fifty-Five, Changing Middle Line
People, creatures of the day and common times,
grow and swell into their public, outward faces,
but most are still the eerie likeness of the Moon—
keeping away from the customary earthly gazes
their other, contrary and reverse side, one that tugs
and heaves up forward altogether different forces,
hook, line, and sinker dipped—in the deeper dark,
taxing these hearts with the lethal, oblivious paths.
There they seek and drink their utmost fill and fix —
crossing lines and laws and boundaries where nothing
matters evermore, and death is the organ with thirst
and appetite—so, they both void and fill themselves early
with last breaths so that they die the very death they tried
lest they halt and turn round—another Orpheus or Divine Fool.